


Supremacy

by originella



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Slash, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: Lady Elizabeth Beaumont has a secret that she doesn't know about - she was found abandoned in a forest in Lorraine, France as an infant, and adopted by an English noble couple. At the age of ten, she becomes a Maid of Honor to Queen Elizabeth, and later a lady-in-waiting. She marries Lord Edward Chadwick, and becomes a spy towards the Queen of Scots, who has a secret as well...





	1. Flames and Frost

_Even though it was summer when an infant was found abandoned by Philip and Anne Beaumont, it felt like the dead of winter, due to the frost upon the ground. Neither of them could explain it, but it was almost as if a spell had been cast around the point which the infant had been found. The little thing was crying as any infant might, left in a frostbitten forest in Lorraine, wanting a mother’s milk and perhaps some affection. As soon as Anne Beaumont heard its screams for mercy, she begged Philip to stop the carriage to help whomever it was. Climbing out, their booked passage on a ship to return to England already taken care of, Philip felt pressed for time as he watched his wife venture behind a grove of trees to follow the wailing, which he’d mistaken for a dying animal._

_Rather than allow nature to take its course, Anne Beaumont bravely ventured into the woods, Philip half-heartedly following her after a few moments. She was overcome with a chill then, pulling her thin summer traveling cloak around her as she stepped closer to the screams. Finally, she spotted the infant in the center of the clearing; it had been swaddled in some wool, before it been left there, a locket around its neck, the telltale shape of a salamander in its center. Shocked at this royal emblem, Anne rushed forward and picked up the babe, and the child was almost immediately soothed by the warmth from the noblewoman. Philip came up behind Anne, shock in his expression at what his wife had found._

_“A baby?” he demanded, looking around. “There’s nothing around for miles—not even a cottage!” he cried out._

_“Did you see this?” Anne asked him, nodding to the locket about the infant’s neck and hanging just outside the swaddling._

_“Likely a nobleman’s bastard, cast off to avoid shame,” Philip replied, shaking his head and taking in the baby then. “Pretty little thing...”_

_“We can’t leave a baby here,” Anne said softly, gently pulling away the swaddling to examine the body. “It’s a girl,” she said quietly, warmth radiating from her heart then in a moment of hope. Although Anne Beaumont had been blessed by God three times over with children, they were all sons—Henry, William, and Thomas. She’d often prayed for a girl—which had proved difficult in the last few weeks, due to staying at French court, due to her and her husband’s Protestant leanings—but Anne believed that the Lord Himself had answered her prayers. A girl child, if only Philip would consent to them bringing her back to England..._

_“You have given me anything I could ever want or need in life, Anne,” Philip told his wife quietly. “If you want to take this baby back with us to England—to give her our name and to raise her as a proper lady, you may do so.”_

_Anne raised her eyes to her husband’s, tears in her eyes. “Are you quite sure in your decision-making, Philip?” she asked, daring to call him by his Christian name in the tenderness of the moment._

_“Yes,” Philip replied, putting an arm around his wife and walking with her back to the carriage. “Tell me, dear wife, what name shall you choose for this little girl who is now our own?_

_Anne hesitated for a moment before deciding on the name which seemed most logical to her. “Elizabeth, of course,” she replied as they approached the carriage, the driver slightly perplexed at what she held as they piled inside of it. “We shall call her Elizabeth Catherine Matilda Eleanor Beaumont,” Anne Beaumont said to her husband, before turning to look at him with a smile._

_“With a name like that, everyone shall think she is a princess born,” Philip joked, watching as the little thing reached out and grabbed his offered finger. _

_“And why should they not?” Anne Beaumont asked her husband as the horses were whipped and they began their journey again. “She is every inch a princess, husband, and this salamander is practically a moniker.” Anne gazed down at the baby, her raven hair a generous amount atop her head, and her eyes the palest blue she’d ever seen. “She shall be our little princess,” Anne vowed as they continued their journey back to England and away from France._

. . . 

“Eliza, it is time to awaken.” 

I opened my eyes and stared up at my maid, finding a bright smile upon my face, as the day had finally arrived. I threw off the bedclothes and immediately walked over to my bath, which had just been drawn and immediately brought into my bedchamber. My hair is not pinned up that day, for I am deliberately awoken at dawn so as it will make itself presentable by the time we must leave Beaumont Manor. I step into the warm water—its temperature is perfect this morning and I lean back, lifting one leg and then another, permitting the attendants to scrub my feet.

“You remember how to address the queen?” my maid, Maude, asks me, looking at me seriously. “You realize it’s very important.”

“One must address the queen as ‘Your Majesty’ first, and then ‘Your Grace’. If permitted to do so and following that, you are permitted to address her as ‘my lady’, but only if you are given direct permission,” I reply.

Maude nods in approval. “Very good,” she commends me. “Before you speak to the queen, what must you do?”

“I shall be announced with Papa,” I reply without hesitation, leaning back for a bucket of water to be unceremoniously dumped upon my head. Once my ears are clear of the rushing water, I continue, “Once we are introduced, Papa will bow and I shall curtsy. The queen will then greet the pair of us, and we shall await to be spoken to before replying, as well as awaiting her judgement upon if we may arise from our obeisances.”

“What languages does Her Majesty know?” Maude asks.

“English, French, Italian, Spanish, Greek, and Latin,” I say quietly, leaning back to accept the lice comb. “I have been taught the same to impress the queen when I was called to serve her. Now that I am, I shall be seen impressively educated by her.”

Maude nods in approval. “What else does Her Majesty value in a Maid of Honor or lady-in-waiting?”

“Singing, dancing, playing instruments, praying to the reformed faith, needlework, and painting,” I say quietly, taking the hand of an attendant and allowing her to pull me to my feet as my body is washed next. “I can sing. I can dance. I can play the lute. I can pray. I can do embroidery. I can paint...”

“And?” Maude asks, knowing that this part is crucial.

“I can read and write in every language I can speak,” I say softly, practicing not sounding particularly proud of myself. I am then assisted from the bath and quickly wrapped in a square of linen, while Maude goes over with me more courtly basics before I am brought over to the window.

Dawn has broken, and the warmth of the day has set in, permitting Maude to throw open the casement window to allow the hot air inside my bedchamber. I toss my mane of hair—one of my worthy assets—and cannot wait until it is dry, for as a maid of ten years of age, I am permitted to wear it long and loose down my back for all to see. I stare outside at my father’s impressive grounds, the hills beyond stretching to the horizon, and it was almost as if one could see forever from my window.

Maude instructs the attendants to take the bath away, before she goes to my wardrobe and looks over the new gowns that Papa had commissioned for me to wear to court. She selects a green one, telling me again of Tudor green and white and how such colors are beneficial to the reigning monarch, who I am named for, although I lack her fiery red hair. Maude snaps her fingers and brings me to my feet, taking the square of linen from around me and putting me into the silk undergarments that match the gown.

I am laced tightly into the gown itself; although I am merely ten, I’ve begun to get the curves of a woman, and Mama informs me that it shall not be long until my courses begin. I cannot imagine such a thing ever occurring, and even as Maude tells me to put my stockings and slippers on, I find I am dawdling ever so slightly due to anxiety. Maude selects emeralds for my throat, ears, and fingers before proclaiming me a vision. She places a green hood upon my head, although my hair is still exposed beneath it.

I am then told to journey downstairs to prayer, where I will remain at chapel before my fast is broken with my father, mother, and three elder brothers, who are sixteen, fifteen, and thirteen respectively. I go to chapel then, gripping my prayer book as I walk along the corridor, seeing all the paintings of past Beaumont’s, and conclude that I look nothing like them. It is when I encounter my mother on the way, who praises my new gown and Maude’s fine work on me before taking my arm, informs me yet again that I resemble her family, of which includes Lord and Lady Hunt.

Determined to push such an idea from my mind, I strive to pay as much attention as possible during the service that morning. I adored religion, and would eagerly follow along in my prayer book—given as a gift for my third Twelfth Night, just when I began reading English. Archbishop Kersey, who was employed by Papa, spoke from the Lord Himself, and knew just how to speak from him without preaching to us. He encouraged learning, and had even begun teaching me after my elder brothers became impatient with his methods of learning. Father Kersey claimed I was a patient student, and although he was old with silver hair and deep wrinkles, I did pray that we would not lose him for all the services in the world.

Once the service was over, we left the chapel to break our fast in the great hall, where my father sat at the head of the table, my mother at the foot, with my brothers on one side and me on the other. I listened attentively to the conversation before me, which mainly entailed the court and how I would find my service there. Since the queen had never married, there was no king to serve, and so my brothers found themselves frequently bored. Studying law at Cambridge proved beneficial, however, and kept them occupied throughout the year, and they would only go to court occasionally, whenever there was to be a grand ball of some kind.

Papa had arranged for the carriage to be waiting for us outside the manor, and to transport us directly to London, where the queen was staying at Greenwich Palace, a favorite Tudor house. Papa and I bid farewell to Mama, Henry, William, and Thomas before stepping inside the carriage. I pulled the window down and stuck my hand out, waving to my mother and brothers, and they all waved back to me. Papa encouraged me to sit down and to at least attempt to act like a lady as we left our property, and I did so, smoothing my skirts in my lap and looking down at the elegant rings selected for me.

“Maude went over how you are to address the queen?” Papa asked, checking his pocket watch to see how our time was.

I nodded. “Yes, of course, Papa,” I reply, looking out of the window again. “She spoke of how I must do so, yet I found I could recite how one must do in my sleep,” I said quietly.

“Good, for you must know how to do so,” Papa said efficiently.

“Papa?” I ask, turning back to look at him.

“You must eat, sleep, breathe, and live as a servant of the queen,” Papa replied in his patient voice. “For when you are older, the queen will decide if she wants to keep you on as a lady-in-waiting, to send you back to us, or to have you married off.”

I shake my head. “I doubt marriage is in the cards for me,” I reply, and Papa looks at me in shock. “Her Majesty never married—”

“That is because the first man she fell in love with murdered his wife, and when they could finally marry, he had married her cousin,” Papa replies in a clipped tone. “The second man she loved was a minor lord, and he was murdered by French sympathizers,” he said, shaking his head, before rolling down the window and spitting outside.

“Who were these men, Papa?” I whispered.

“Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, was the first,” Papa says, shaking his head with disdain. “Traitor’s son... The second, Gideon Blackburn, was the former lover of Queen Mary of Scotland.”

“The queen’s greatest enemy?” I whispered, shock going through me as I clasped my hands together in prayer. “God save her...”

“Take heed that you never cross yourself around her,” Papa says. “We are not papists, Elizabeth.”

I shake my head. “Of course not, Papa,” I reply.

We reached London in two hours, and the sun still shone brightly, and I pitied the carriage driver, for he had to be out in it. Papa nodded for him to open the carriage door when we arrived, and I kept my eyes lowered as Papa stepped out of the carriage and back onto solid ground. He immediately turned about, and offered his hand to me and I took it, holding fast to it as I myself stepped out of the carriage, and looked upwards at the impressive palace before us. It was a lovely old thing, and had been a great favorite of King Henry the Eighth, the father of our queen.

A manservant stepped forward, and informed Papa that he would be taking the two of us to see the queen immediately. Several footmen stepped forward to take my belongings to my new chamber, and I initially suspected that I would be sharing it with the other Maids of Honor. Papa and I stepped inside the palatial building, following the manservant closely as we walked in through the first corridor, before we walked down another, all the walls covered with impressively beautiful portraits of ruler’s past. I held fast to Papa’s hand, not wishing to become lost in a strange place, and knowing full well that the queen could become angry for such behavior.

The manservant brought us to what he explained was the queen’s privy chamber, and the guards immediately swung their pikes outward so as we could step inside. Papa gave me a small smile as we crossed the threshold, nodding towards a plump little man dressed in red—who I knew to be called a herald—stepped forward and towards the queen. The little man bowed to the queen and she inclined her head, although I was quite sure that she could see Papa and I, lurking behind him.

“Your Majesty,” the herald said, before puffing out his chest like an impressive and haughty little bird, “may I present the Earl of Beaumont, and his daughter, Lady Elizabeth Beaumont?” he asked.

“You may,” the queen replied, “I thank you.” After the herald moved aside, the queen could see that Papa and I had already lowered ourselves into our mutual obeisances, and she seemed to enjoy this. She got to her feet then, descending the stairs that separated herself from the floor, and clapped her hands. “Oh, come now, Lord Philip, none of that,” she said to Papa, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You know as well as I do that you and I are old friends. Come—rise up, old friend,” she said, and Papa did so effortlessly. “You, too, Lady Elizabeth,” the queen commanded gently. “I would see the pretty daughter of one of my most trusted friends, who has been blessed with my name.”

I raise my eyes to hers, and after Papa lets go of my hand, I stand normally, and looked up fully at the queen. I sensed something behind her eyes then—could it be recognition, could it be fear? It quickly passed as I curtsied again, and said quietly, “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be at your lovely court. I quite enjoyed what Papa and I saw of the castle, if I may say so.”

The queen brightened at that. “You may—of course you may,” she said indulgently to me then. “I’ve no maids or ladies with raven hair at the moment, so it will be a joy to see you running about at my command,” she joked. “My lady mother, God rest her soul, had raven hair...”

“A great beauty she was, Your Majesty,” I said quickly, before Papa himself could answer her. “Although I do believe a woman should be more greatly admired for her intelligence, although one never should state that a woman could not have both.”

The queen raised her eyebrows at my statement, clearly shocked that a girl so young could be so quick. “How old are you, Lady Elizabeth?” she asked.

“I am just ten years of age, Your Majesty,” I reply.

The queen nods. “The last time a Maid of Honor was that young, she met the scaffold,” she says softly, and Papa immediately grabs my hand, and the queen’s concern is almost immediately replaced with a smile. “Don’t fret, Lord Philip—you’ve no cause to do so around me. For I quite like your Lady Elizabeth, and she will fit in quite well with the other maids, I assure you. No need for fretting,” she said again.

. . .

It was easy, I thought, being a servant of the Queen of England; you were taught never to be too modest, nor too confident. Being kind was key, and yet you were never supposed to override the queen in matters of state or in your own intelligence. If you were deemed superior to the queen in any way, you were sent from court and never heard from again. I could see why, and learned to watch for things that were considered untoward, yet I kept my mouth shut, never wishing to bring ill will upon me or to anyone else.

It was when I was serving the queen for less than a month when I got a tear-stained letter from my mother, who I could tell was full of grief. The seal was unbroken, which I was grateful for, as I did not want courtly gossip going on about any letter I received. Since I was not to be considered a threat to the kingdom, I supposed I was permitted this luxury.

_My dearest Elizabeth,_

_I do not wish to alarm or to upset you greatly, but the worst has happened to the Earldom of Beaumont as we know it. It was one week ago that your dear eldest brother, Henry, Lord Beaumont, has died from the plague. We believe he picked it up from some ill-advised habits; he was sequestered to his chambers immediately, and, praise God, was the only one taken._

_Your father, William, Thomas, and I are all well, but Henry is lost to us forever. All of his possessions and things have been burned, and there was nothing to be done for him. I was not present when he was placed into the tomb, nor were your father and brothers, for we could not bear to be lost either. Prayers were said for him and for his soul, and I know he will wished to be remembered to you, my darling. _

_I am terribly sorry to deliver this news now—when you are doing so well at court—but I could not hold off from it any longer. You are growing up quickly, my sweet, and you must know when you must give in to sorrow. Now is not an opportunity to do so, and you must pray for your brother before moving past it. Tears shall not be necessary, my girl, and you must attend to your duties immediately._

_Your mother,_

_Countess Anne Beaumont_

I remember gripping the letter, my hands shaking at the prospect of it all—my eldest brother, Henry, was dead. This meant that William was now Lord Beaumont, and would one day become the earl on the devastating occasion of our father’s death. William, although certainly well-educated, was ill-prepared for this role, as it was always understood that Henry would one day marry and have children, so for William to become the earl was nearly impossible. 

The fire is lit in the dormitory before me, which I share with all the other little Maids of Honor, who have gone outside to walk in the gardens. The queen is speaking to her advisors that morning, on what I do not know, so the rooms are empty. Morning prayers have been said already that day, so now I shall take it upon myself to go to the chapel alone to pray for Henry’s soul. I stare into the flames before me, before I suddenly let out a great cry of despair and cast the letter into them.

The parchment is engulfed immediately thereafter, snapping and popping in protest as the flames begin licking at its edges. I stare at it until it turns quickly to char, and then to ash, before it slips through the pieces of wood and falls, rather helplessly, into the bottom of the fireplace. I raise my eyes to the mirror along the wall, staring at my reflection—it is certainly hardened, although my cheeks are streaked with tears.

I dash the tears from my face then, staring at myself, thinking again at how much I look nothing like my mother, father, or brothers, and push the thought from my mind immediately. I shook out my skirts, pursing my lips and running a hand or two through my hair. Satisfied, I opened the door to the dormitory, and, shutting it behind me, made my way from that place to the chapel, knowing that it was time to leave my childhood behind.

. . . 

Time passed, and the queen seemed very grateful for my services to her as we became used to one another. My tasks were small and not at all difficult; I had to be there with her for morning prayers, and was permitted to sit with the other Maids of Honor at mealtimes. I was also permitted to sit with the Maids of Honor during embroidery times, and I was also permitted to make friends among them—in fact, such things were greatly encouraged by courtly circles and I found myself filled with relief at being included.

My closest friend became Isabelle Chadwick, daughter of the Duke of Chadwick, who went by “Bella”. Bella was merely a month or so older than I was, and she was quite determined to make the best impression on Her Majesty by just being her polite self. Of course, being the daughter of a duke didn’t hurt matters either. Like me, she was the youngest of her family, but unlike me, she had one elder brother—Edward—and two elder sisters, Frances and Thomasine, who were already married and ladies-in-waiting of the queen. Bella enjoyed prayers as much as I did, and, provided that we did not whisper throughout the services—as some less-devout ladies attempted to do—Bella and I were permitted to sit and pray together.

When we were twelve, and the first Maids of Honor had been cast off and returned home from our group, we were moved into better chambers and out from the dormitory we’d all shared together. Bella and I were given a room to share, and delighted in courtly gossip, although we never did intend to hurt anyone’s feelings. Bella felt relieved that she had not been sent back home—to Chadwick Hall—and whispered to me that her mother would have been less than pleased to see her sent home in disgrace.

It was also then that I received yet another tear-stained letter from my mother, informing me that William too had succumbed to the plague. I said another prayer for my brother’s good will, but found myself considering Thomas then, who must have been completely bewildered. Having lost two brothers, he must have thought to marry quickly, and produce an heir, for without a son, I would be the sole heiress to my family. I pushed the thought from my mind, ducking my head down in prayer again, begging for forgiveness.

It was on the occasion of my fourteenth birthday that she decided that she wanted me to be her lady-in-waiting, and the arrangements were made. Bella had been selected, too, and she and I delighted in our upcoming status. The court seamstress was summoned to us, courtesy of both our father’s, and we were to have new gowns for our loyalty to the realm. Bella, whose gowns had frequently been made over from Frances’s and Thomasine’s cast-off ones, was pleased to finally have some gowns of her own. The queen ruled that our colors should be of good contrasts to our skins and hair—which meant reds and greens for me and blues, pinks, and lavenders for Bella.

After a long day of fetching and carrying for the queen, as well as standing still as the seamstress attempted not to stick us with pins, Bella and I fell into bed, exhausted—but not too exhausted for speaking. We began speaking about the masque that Queen Elizabeth had planned for Twelfth Night, but Bella’s voice rang hollow. I asked her what was the matter, but she claimed that it was nothing, but I was not about to simply believe her. Almost immediately, I turned over in bed and picked up my candle from the bedside table, before shining it rather close to Bella’s face.

“Stop!” she cried, trying to turn away from me.

“Not until you’re truthful,” I reply, my voice calm. “Come now, Bella—we tell each other everything. Have I done something to upset you?”

“It is not you,” Bella replies, annoyed that I am pressing her.

“Well, tell me who has offended you,” I say simply.

“I’ve not been offended!” she cried out again.

I felt a smile coming to my face then, as I recalled Bella’s blushing looks over at the gentleman’s table, and nodded to myself. “Ah, I know what is troubling you, Bella,” I told her, and her blue eyes flashed to mine. “Oh, yes—I know quite well.”

“Well?” she demanded.

“You were staring at Viscount Winthrop all throughout dinner—for the last fortnight,” I say proudly to her, having ascertained why she seemed so glum about things. “Has _he_ said or done something to offend you?”

“Geoffrey,” Bella said spitefully, folding her hands demurely upon the coverlet before her. “His name is Geoffrey.”

“Geoffrey, then, “ I reply, growing impatient with her. “Come now, Bella—you are my greatest friend in all the world.” I reach down then and grip her hand in mine, not wishing any ill-will between us. “Will you not tell me of your heart’s desire, Bella?”

“It all began a full month ago,” Bella says breathlessly, allowing a small smile to encroach on her lips. “It was when the Master of Revels informed us of the masque, and that we were to have dancing partners, and Viscount Geoffrey and I were paired up.”

I nodded. “I remember. You did not seem particularly enthusiastic at the prospect originally, Bella. What changed?”

Bella smiles. “After a full week of reading our lines together, Viscount Geoffrey asked if he and I could begin doing so in the gardens. I know it is December, Eliza, but I could not help myself, and I accepted. It would be an opportunity to wear my new fur-lined cape,” she said softly, a bloom forming upon her cheeks as she brings one of her finer items from her wardrobe.

“So, you walked in the gardens?” I ask.

Bella nods. “Yes, and spoke to one another—often. Geoffrey is seventeen,” she says softly, almost as if the three years of age difference matter nothing to her whatsoever. “He was betrothed to a baron’s daughter last year, but it fell through when she left for France to serve at court there...”

“Has he made an offer to you, Bella?” I ask, my brows raising.

Bella immediately shakes her head. “Of course not! Such a thing would not be appropriate...”

“Have you spoken of love?”

Bella smiles again, lowering her eyes. “He kissed me a fortnight ago,” she said quietly. “That is why I was staring at him in the banquet hall—when you first noticed me doing so. I was looking at his lips,” she said softly. “I wanted him to kiss me again...”

“Bella!” I cried out, and she turned to look at me. “You must know that, should you wish to do more than that, that you must have someone speak to your father about it. Suppose you and Viscount Geoffrey have too much wine one night at supper, and suppose you were to find yourself locked in an embrace which you could not figure out a way out of?”

“Geoffrey would never!” Bella says, her eyes turning to ice. “Geoffrey is a gentleman, and it is always he who stops my kisses—he claims such things should await the marriage bed—”

“You’ve surely not discussed the marriage bed!” I cry out, throwing myself out of bed and onto my knees. “Bella has not sinned!” I whisper fervently then, my hands clasped beneath my chin. “She wishes your mercy and your pardon, o Lord, for she meant nothing by it—!”

“Stop it,” Bella chides me gently, pulling me to my feet. “Of course we have discussed it, Eliza, for I believe Geoffrey intends to marry me.”

“Intends is not the same thing as actually asking you,” I say quietly, and shake my head at her, yet nevertheless allowing her to pull me upwards completely. “I just don’t wish for any form of shame or disgrace unto you, Bella. Suppose your Geoffrey merely ropes you into a betrothal, before he does something rash and then breaks his word?” I ask, looking earnestly into her eyes. “He must not be allowed to do so, Bella...”

“And he shall not,” Bella assures me. “I swear it.”

I nod. “Very well. If you swear it, I’ll believe you.”

. . . 

The occasion of the masque was to be the grandest of them all; from atop her festively decorated throne, the queen clapped to the elaborately-composed music for the evening. Bella danced with her Viscount Winthrop—although, to the naked eye, due to the mask he wore, it was impossible to tell that it was truly him. I recalled my partner’s name was Edward, but, as he had been away from court of late, I’d no idea who he was. From beneath his mask, he could have been anyone at all, and I was forced to smile and keep up with quick and complicated steps, that he inexplicably had a better grip upon than I did, which made me uneasy.

We danced for over an hour to complete the story of the masque—of young maidens being abducted by masked infidels, before coming to realize that they were in love with them all along. Keeping up with Edward was one thing, but it was truly amazing to see Bella and Geoffrey dancing so effortlessly. Each of their movements was anticipated—almost as if they’d choreographed the dance themselves—and they never fell out of step with one another. Edward, however, danced the dance so quickly that I soon became aware that I’d no idea which way was right and which way was left.

When the dance ended, the queen rose to her feet—along with the rest of the court who did not participate in the masque—and applauded. Her smile was radiant, and her skin seemed sun-kissed, despite the fact that it was in the middle of winter. Even though she was over forty years of age, her face had not a line upon it, and she appeared as though she could live for another thirty years or more, due to her robust exterior.

Finally, the applause began to die down and the queen shouted, “Unmask!”

Immediately, I reached behind my head and pulled at the silk ribbons holding the mask in place, and my mask came off instantly, falling into my hands. I looked next to me, at Edward, and had to fight to keep the shock from my face as I realized that Edward was actually Lord Chadwick, only brother of Bella. I saw him staring at Bella and Geoffrey then, and he looked less than pleased at the notion of his sister making eyes at a viscount.

When the queen ordered dancing for the entire court, she automatically partnered a gentleman and was whisked out onto the dance floor. I moved to follow along with the rest of this court, but I felt a hand on my shoulder behind me and, turning, saw that the hand belonged to Lord Chadwick. I bent into a curtsy to show my respect, hoping that he would not say anything rude to me despite my lack of quickness in dancing.

“May I have the pleasure, Lady Elizabeth?” he asked.

“You may, Lord Chadwick,” I replied. I took his proffered hand and was led out onto the dance floor after the queen and her partner, as well as Bella and Geoffrey, whom Lord Chadwick still stared at. “Is something on your mind, my lord?” I asked, falling into step with him.

Lord Chadwick’s dark blue eyes immediately snapped to mine, almost as if I was a riddle to be solved. “On my mind, Lady Elizabeth?”

“Yes—your mind, Lord Chadwick,” I reply patiently. “You seem to be most preoccupied with that of your sister and Viscount Winthrop.”

“You know the gentleman my sister dances with?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, of course—I share a bedchamber with your sister, my lord. We have no secrets.”

Lord Chadwick looks from me, to Bella and Geoffrey, and back again. “You would therefore know his Christian name, then?”

“It is Geoffrey, my lord,” I say softly, permitting him to turn me in the dance, all the while keeping from stepping upon his toes. “But what is the matter with them dancing with one another?”

“It would be ill-advised for Bella to find herself attached to any gentleman,” he replies levelly.

“Is she destined for the church?” I whisper, not taking my eyes from his. “Is your family secretly papist?”

“Never!” Lord Chadwick breathes, almost as if the word has burned him. “And we never would be.”

“Of course not,” I reply quickly, lowering my eyes to our feet mingling. “But I suppose the only other alternative would be that your mother and father have other plans for Bella...”

“Mayhap they do—she is the daughter of a duke.”

“And I an earl, and no such plans have been made for me,” I reply, raising my eyes back to Lord Chadwick’s.

Lord Chadwick’s breath catches then, as his eyes rove over my face, before shaking his head as the dance comes to an end. “Summon Bella.”

“My lord?” I ask him.

“Summon Bella,” he says again, growing impatient.

Dropping his hands, I make my way over to Bella, who is speaking lightly with Geoffrey, and curtsy to them both. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I am afraid I need to borrow Lady Isabelle...”

“Of course,” Geoffrey replies with a smile, before taking Bella’s hand and kissing it. “Goodbye, my dear.”

“Goodbye, my lord,” she replies, and they curtsy to one another before she takes my arm and walks with me. “Did you get on well with Edward?” she asks, her face flushed with delight.

I roll my eyes. “Never mind him—he sent me to fetch you.”

“To fetch me?” Bella demands. “Whatever for?”

“I believe he disapproves of your closeness to Viscount Winthrop,” I say in my most quiet voice to her, as we slip out from the great hall and down the corridor towards the gallery, where I’d seen Lord Chadwick going. “Mayhap he will wish to warn you of it,” I utter as we spot him then, staring outside, where snow is falling. “I’ll leave you—”

“No,” Bella says, gripping my arm and preventing me from departing. “Stay, please, Eliza. Please.”

I nod. “Of course,” I reply, and we approach Lord Chadwick then.

“Edward?” Bella asks.

Lord Chadwick turns and looks disapprovingly at me. “This is a private matter, Lady Elizabeth. I think—”

“Stop,” Bella says, her voice like the crack of a whip. “Eliza shall stay with me, brother, for the love of all things holy.”

Lord Chadwick sighs. “Very well,” he replies. “Papa and Mama heard of your outings with Viscount Winthrop and they are concerned.”

“And why should they be?” Bella demands. “Does this merely have to do with his rank?”

Lord Chadwick leans up against the wall. “I assume so.”

“Geoffrey is the heir to his uncle, Gilbert Raincourt,” Bella says, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

“Gilbert Raincourt?” Lord Chadwick asks. “The Marquess?”

“Yes,” Bella replies. “He and his wife, Agnes—Geoffrey’s father’s younger sister—have no children and Geoffrey has been named their heir,” she says softly. “They raised him since he was a boy, when his parents died when he was ten. He is all but their son now, Edward.”

“And you know Marquess Raincourt?” Lord Chadwick asks.

“We do,” I say, speaking for the first time. “He and his wife, the marchioness, have come to court many times. They are high in favor, but prefer to stay in Colchester, at Raincourt Castle,” I say softly.

“And he would inherit the castle?”

“All of it—the land, the money, the title, plus what his father, the viscount, left to him,” Bella tells her brother. “He has a house in London called Winthrop Chalet, which he stays at whenever the court is nearby.”

“And his annuity?” Lord Chadwick wants to know.

“It is two thousand a year,” Bella tells him. “After his uncle’s death, it will be five thousand.”

Lord Chadwick sighs. “Very well—I shall inform Mama and Papa of my findings,” he says.

Bella, easily swayed, runs up to Lord Chadwick and kisses him on the cheek with enthusiasm. “You are well and good!” she cries out, turning from us and returning to the great hall.

“You could have asked her, you know,” I say softly.

Lord Chadwick regards me then. “What?”

“You could have asked her—Bella. You could have asked Bella about Geoffrey, or you could have spoken to him yourself. He is a good man, my lord—a very good man.”

“I am not used to good men, Lady Elizabeth,” he says, and them immediately appears to turn away from me to leave.

I cross my arms. “Apparently not, I daresay.”

Lord Chadwick looks as if I’ve caused him injury by dagger then as he takes in my words. “What did you just say?”

“I stated that, clearly, you are not used to good men, given your treatment of your sister,” I say, annoyed that this conversation is being prolonged. “Clearly, my lord, you don’t understand how much Bella looks up to you!” I say, and advance towards him then. “She loves you, my lord, and yet you treat her as if she is a common street urchin, or someone afflicted with small pox! You would think you bear no love for her at all!”

“You’re a fiery one, are you not, Lady Elizabeth?”

“No, I am loyal to my family and to my friends,” I reply heatedly. “I’ve lost two brothers, Lord Chadwick, and I’ve got one left. He is married, and with a son in the cradle, and even though he is my brother, and perhaps he may anger me at times, I would never speak to him in such a way. I shall always speak to him with respect and dignity, not because he is a man, not because he is my brother, but because it is the proper thing to do.”

“I am sorry to hear of it,” he says then, sympathy in his voice. Lord Chadwick stares down at me then and shakes his head. “I wanted so much to be at more rehearsals for the masque...”

“Why?” I ask him, feeling compelled to stare at him.

“Perhaps if you and I could have spoken earlier, we could have avoided this entire conversation.”

“And what makes you think I would even want to speak to you?” I ask him, my voice filled with bubbling anger.

“Why would you not?” he asked.

“Your inferior treatment of your sister!” I cry out, incensed. “How could I even enjoy speaking to a man who speaks to his sister, and my dearest friend, in such a discourteous manner?”

“And how should you like me to speak to her?”

“With pleasantries!” I say. “She’s not seen you for weeks, and the moment you arrive at court, you criticize the relationship she has with the man she loves! I have already spoken to her of the risks, my lord, and she certainly did not need to hear it all over again from you! And in such an impolite tone...” I shake my head at him, coming to realize that I am getting nowhere.

“And how should you like me to speak to you?”

“Speak to me?” I demand. “Why would you bring yourself to do so deliberately, unless I was carrying back a message for you?”

“Mayhap I wish to speak to you for the sake of doing so,” Lord Chadwick replies, stepping closer to me. “Mayhap I like the way you speak, and wish to hear more of your words.”

“My words?” I ask. “Why would you wish to hear such a thing?”

“Because no woman has spoken to me thus, and I find such a thing to be most invigorating,” he replies.

I raise my eyebrows. “Do you?”

“I do,” he says softly. “You are correct—I should speak to Bella more delicately, in every way, not just in this matter. My parents are exceptionally hard people, so it is difficult to remember when I should not speak in this way towards others.”

“You’d do well to remember,” I put in.

“I should—especially when it comes to what I wish.”

“You have a wish?”

“We all have wishes Eliza,” he says, and I feel myself momentarily stiffen at the use of my Christian name. “We all have wishes,” he tells me then as he ducks his head downwards and kisses me.

I feel myself bracing for it, but immediately when his lips touch mine, I find myself shocked and angered by such a thing. I yank myself from his grip upon me and smack Lord Chadwick upon the face, and he has the nerve to chuckle at me for what I’ve done. “Do not take delight in what you have done, my lord!” I shout at him, irritation riddling my tone. “Do not ever take delight in doing such a monstrous thing!”

“Shall I be burned for my sins, my lady?” he jokes.

“That is not for me to say,” I reply, turning my back on him and walking from that place and directly to chapel. I step inside, snow upon my hair and in my skirts, and make my way towards the front of the building. The archbishop is not there, and I see no informality in me prostrating myself before the plain cross nailed to the wall. “Be merciful to me, O God, because of your constant love,” I say softly. “Because of your great mercy, wipe away my sins! Wash away all my evil and make me clean from my sin!” I say, head bent, hands clasped, as I shiver from the coldness of the snow, and the great weight which has fallen upon my shoulders.


	2. Behind the Mask

I soon heard from Bella that Edward had been called from court, and it was not a moment too soon. After begging the Lord Himself for forgiveness, I did not believe I could face him again. I did my best to keep my head down and to focus on my work for Queen Elizabeth. She was not a very demanding mistress, as she had so many ladies about her command, but she did expect you to complete any task she set out for you. I was mainly tasked with stitching handkerchiefs, as the stitches themselves had to be very delicate and neat, and not many ladies had the patience for such things. Her Majesty praised my work and would often ask for me to straighten her gown before going into supper, and would also smile at me in gratitude.

The rest of December flitted away like a frost-bitten dream, and I soon made myself forget what had happened between Edward and I. However, there were times in the darkness of the bedchamber I shared with Bella that my mind did happen to wander to him. I detested the notion that I’d enjoyed the feeling of his lips upon mine; no man had ever kissed me thus. As a child, I’d had one playmate—the son of the cook in the kitchens at Beaumont Manor—and he and I had kissed the once, when I’d returned home after William’s death to mourn him properly. John, as he was called, claimed that he had missed me whilst I’d been at court; the kiss just happened, and I knew then as I knew now that it had meant nothing, and I was becoming attached to the feeling that I’d felt when Edward had kissed me.

As the new year dawned and gave way to spring, I dared not even mention my kiss with Edward to Bella, lest we be heard and it got around court. I knew I could trust Bella, and yet I kept my affairs of the heart close to me. She may trust her information about Geoffrey with me, even knowing that the walls had ears, but I did not. I would not give way to the allure of love like a milkmaid in springtime; I decided it best to remain stoic about the whole idea of affection and to await God’s judgement. I knew, in times like this, that the Lord knew best and, if He felt the need to send me a husband, he would do so at his own and proper pace.

March ended and April arrived, and Bella soon became withdrawn, and I noticed it quickly for Geoffrey had left court. I wondered if he was to be send far away as an ambassador—which would certainly gain him credibility with Her Majesty—but I soon heard from a handful of other ladies that he had gone to Blackpool, and immediately I became enthralled with gossip. I wondered if Bella knew such a thing, and so, as soon as I’d been excused for the afternoon from the queen, I went to our chambers at the run. Surely, I thought, had Bella known about Geoffrey’s whereabouts, she would have told me...

I all but crashed into our rooms, startling Bella, who had been sitting in our window embrasure, absentmindedly stroking her ginger cat—a gift at the new year, sent from her father—and gazing wistfully towards the parkland beyond of Windsor Castle. Shutting the door behind me, I watched as Bella picked up the cat—whom she’d called Marguerite—and re-positioned her in her arms. As I stepped closer, I heard the tell-tale sound of purring emanating from her throat, and I was pleased at its happiness.

“You shall never believe what I’ve just heard from Anne Cecil!” I said, keeping my voice down.

Bella raised her eyebrows. “How can we believe what she says? Her husband is in the Continent and she’s six months gone in her first pregnancy...”

I raise my eyebrows. “Can you be accusing Anne Cecil, the Countess of Oxford and daughter of the Her Majesty’s secretary, of adultery?” I whisper, shocked, my hands immediately clasping in prayer.

Bella sighed. “I know I should not, but the countess has never spoken a kind word to me nor of me,” she replies, leaning back against the window frame. “I suppose it is nothing...”

I shook my head. “I think you will like what I have to say.”

Bella gives me a sad smile. “Say it, then.”

“The countess has informed me that your Geoffrey has found himself in Blackpool,” I whispered with a grin.

“How would she know that?”

“The queen mentioned it to Baron Burghley, who informed Anne’s mother, who informed her maid, who informed Anne’s maid,” I reply.

“And yet how can we be sure?” she wants to know.

I give her a grin. “Why would the queen be privy to it if it were not for your Geoffrey asking for your hand in marriage to our monarch directly?”

“Hand on marriage?” Bella squeaks, startling Marguerite to the point where the poor thing bolts across the room. “Geoffrey?”

I nod. “Yes—I may have seen a letter from him on the queen’s desk regarding it whilst fetching something from her chamber,” I reply.

“What was it, you say?” Bella asks, breathless.

“The queen requested a necklace for supper—although why she chose me to go and get it for her, I’ve no idea—”

“No!” Bella cries out then, grabbing a bolster and hitting me with it. “The letter, Eliza! Tell me of the letter!”

I let out a giggle then, managing to ward off the blows the bolster gave, and, thankfully, no feathers managed to escape from it. “Merely that your Geoffrey requested permission to leave court for a period of a week to go to Chadwick Hall to speak to your lord father!”

Bella holds the bolster aloft then, and I find that she is shaking ever so slightly as she lowers it. “Geoffrey is to ask my lord father for my hand in marriage,” she whispers then, her eyes alight with joy. Quickly, she grabs me by the hand and pulls me to my feet. “We must hurry to chapel, Eliza! We must pray for Geoffrey’s safe return to court!”

I didn’t need telling twice to go to chapel, and shook out my skirts, Bella doing the same as we dashed from our chambers. Marguerite had returned to the window embrasure as we shut the door behind us, making our way down the corridor and towards the main doors of the castle. Finally, we reached them and dashed along the courtyard, arriving promptly at the chapel, which was usually empty at this time of day. The high ceilings were expertly pattered with intricate beams, while the windows were stained glass full of past rulers and saints that caused us to be humble as we entered the House of the Lord.

Approaching the alter, Bella and I spread our skirts and sank to our knees, staring up at the plain cross upon the wall and clasping our hands before us. It was a stone floor we knelt upon, but it was not too terrible, as our stockings were thick in the early spring, keeping us plenty warm throughout the morning, afternoon, and evening. Listening attentively, I kept silent throughout our stay in the chapel, but heard Bella’s words.

“Have mercy upon me, high and mighty Lord, as I ask you to watch over my dear Geoffrey as he returns to court...” She said softly, and I lowered my head then, a smile crossing my lips as I envisioned my friends’ happiness.

. . .

I was just returning from an errand from the queen the following week when Geoffrey himself appeared in the corridor. I saw him and smiled at him in greeting, and he immediately came towards me. Quickly, despite the bolt of velvet I carried in my arms, I knelt to show him my respect, and awaited him to speak first.

“Lady Elizabeth,” he said, raising from his bow.

“Viscount Winthrop,” I said formally, standing straight again.

“Lord Geoffrey is just fine,” he said then, a kind smile appearing on his face then as he regarded the velvet. “You are on your way back to the queen?” he asked, hope in his voice.

“I am, yes. She requested that this be brought to her chambers for a new gown, I believe...”

Geoffrey shuffled from foot to foot then, clearly unsure of himself. “She always manages to look lovely, Her Majesty does.”

I nod. “Yes, quite lovely, Lord Geoffrey.” I search his face then, noting his apparent insecurity. “Pray, sir, do not think me imprudent, but I know that you are aware that I share a bedchamber with Lady Isabelle. Would you like me to deliver a message from you to you? Certainly, it can be done,” I say then, and watch as his eyes light up. “If that is your wish, sir...”

Geoffrey nodded then, happiness in his face as I suggested a message to be brought to Bella. “Yes, please, Lady Elizabeth, that would be greatly appreciated if you could do so.”

I nodded. “Of course, Lord Geoffrey. But you must tell me of it quickly, for Her Majesty does not like to be kept waiting...”

Geoffrey let out a small laugh then. “Of course, Lady Elizabeth. As for the message...”

“Of course,” I say quickly.

“If you could tell her that I would appreciate it if you and she would meet me in the gallery when I return to court again, after the dancing begins in the banqueting hall, I would be forever in your debt.”

I gave him a kind smile. “I shall give her the message forthwith, Lord Geoffrey,” I said carefully. “However, I must return to the queen, for she will want this velvet.”

“Of course,” Geoffrey says, taking my hand in his and kissing it. “And you shall deliver my message to her?”

I nod. “Consider it done, my lord,” I reply, smiling at him again. “But when shall you return from court?”

Geoffrey smiles. “In July. I am only returned now to gather more belongings to make my journey more comfortable. The queen wishes for me to go to Spain to visit with the ambassadors there.”

I nod. “I see. Well, I shall inform Bella at once of your journey. I know she will wish to see you very much on your return.”

“I am gladdened to hear it, Lady Elizabeth,” he replies, bowing to me. “Good day, my lady.”

“Good day, my lord,” I reply, and continuing to walk to the queen’s rooms. I did not make a show of myself as I entered, and thankfully, only incurred a raised eyebrow from her as I approached. I curtsied and presented the bolt of velvet. I watched as she examined it and, once she’d ascertained that there were no blemishes upon it, nodded in approval and thanked me, before motioning that I could re-join the ladies.

“You certainly escaped a tongue-lashing,” Bella whispered.

I sat down beside her and grinned, taking up my embroidery. “Thankfully I did indeed,” I replied.

“What kept you?” she asked.

I raised my eyes and noticed that the queen was preoccupied; stabbing my needle into my embroidery, the scarlet thread in my quick hand, I positioned myself so as I could easily speak to Bella, who held a peacock-blue thread and was gripping her own stitching. “I stumbled upon your Lord Geoffrey in the corridor,” I whispered.

Bella immediately set to shaking then, her eyes wide with joy. “My Lord Geoffrey has returned to court?” she whispered.

I nodded. “Yes—he stank of his horse and still wore his riding costume,” I said, and grinned at Bella’s covering her mouth in laughter. “However, he was only returned to gather more of his things, for he is off to Spain.”

“Spain?” Bella whispered, lowering her eyes to blot a tear away. “So far away from England... Did he have a message for me?” she whispered, lowering her eyes back to her embroidery when the queen looked our way. She pointed to one of my stitches so as it appeared as if we were discussing it, and the queen turned her eyes away from us. “He did speak of me?”

I nodded. “He spoke of you, yes.”

“What was said, then?”

I managed to hide my smile by retrieving more thread and proceeded to stitch some more, in an attempt to be productive in the queen’s company. “He stated that he wishes for us to meet him in the gallery upon his return from court, during the dancing during dinner...”

“But why you and I?” she demanded then, fighting to keep her voice lowered at the prospect of it. “Why does he not wish to see me on my own?”

“I believe it is because he wishes for your reputation to remain intact,” I say quietly to her. “If you were to see you alone, there could be gossip throughout court and you could be ruined,” I say, giving her a warning look. “We cannot have you ruined, Bella. We cannot.”

Bella lowered her eyes then, as if ashamed that she even for a moment considered meeting with Geoffrey on her own. “Of course,” she said softly, and dipped her head back to embroidery. “After the feasting and during the dancing?” she whispered.

I nodded, following the pattern of the flower I stitched, knowing I’d need some green thread eventually. “Yes, just as the court becomes drunk with attraction for prancing feet, we shall meet your Lord Geoffrey,” I whisper back. “For when summer arrives, mayhap other things will, too.”

. . . 

After dinner was served, Her Majesty called for dancing and the ladies and gentlemen got to their feet; the queen clapped for the musicians to play and everyone dashed to find a partner. With Her Majesty preoccupied with many gentlemen wishing to claim her as their partner, Bella and I took the quick opportunity to dash from the banqueting hall and down the corridor. Unseen, we made our way at a quick pace to the gallery, and I could sense Bella’s excitement at seeing her beloved again.

Geoffrey had been seen at the gentleman’s table at dinner, feasting away and speaking to the members of court and more than likely informing them of his journey. Now that he was returned to court, I knew that Bella would be pleased to see him. Bella had worn a new gown of white, while I myself wore one of scarlet red, and as we made our way towards the gallery, she could not help but let out a shout as Geoffrey stood outside of it, and she dashed to him then and he caught her up into his arms.

“Did Papa demean you?” Bella demanded then as Geoffrey leaned down to kiss her, gripping her about her waist. “Please, tell me he was not cruel to you and there was no abuse—”

Geoffrey cuts her off inadvertently as their lips meet, and Bella hastily melts in his arms. “Dear heart, all is well,” he whispered, lowering her down onto the ground and smiling around her at me. “Thank you for bringing me my beloved, Lady Elizabeth.”

I smiled at them. “No trouble, Lord Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey turned to Bella then and removed a piece of parchment from his breast pocket. “We’ve secured Her Majesty’s permission, as well as your lord father’s,” he informed Bella then, and she was shaking all over again. “Now all that remains is three matters.”

“Three matters?” Bella asked.

“One, to rectify one situation,” he replies, lowering himself onto bended knee and taking a ring from his pocket. “This is something I have left from my lady mother,” he said, the diamond sparkling in the setting sun that crept in from the massive windows all around us. “The first thing I must rectify is asking you if you will be my wife.”

“Geoffrey...” Bella whispered.

“I love you,” he declared then, “and now that we’ve received the necessary duel consent needed—our queen’s and your father’s—all that remains is your willingness to wed me. Will you marry me and be my wife, Isabelle Jane Bridget Mary Chadwick?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bella replied as Geoffrey got to his feet and slipped the ring onto her finger, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

“You said three matters... That was one,” Bella said softly.

“Yes,” Geoffrey replied, “I did.” He turned to me then and smiled. “Lady Elizabeth, would you do us the honor of witnessing our wedding?”

I nodded. “Of course, Lord Geoffrey. It would be my honor.”

Geoffrey smiled. “I thank you,” he said, turning back to Bella. “And now all that remains is awaiting the second witness to our wedding.”

“Second witness?” Bella asked.

“Who have you asked, Lord Geoffrey?” I wanted to know.

“He has asked me, although I cannot think why,” came a voice from the shadows then, and out comes Edward Chadwick from behind Geoffrey, and I very nearly gasp, for I’d not seen Edward since our kiss during Twelfth Night, back when I was only fourteen. He looked me over briefly before turning to his sister and Geoffrey. “I’ve agreed to this, Geoffrey, so let us do it quickly, lest we incur the wrath of a Tudor monarch.”

“Understood,” Geoffrey laughed, taking Bella’s arm and walking with her towards the door beside the gallery and out into the warm courtyard, towards the chapel.

“I find you much changed, Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Edward says, approaching me and offering me his arm.

“I am fifteen now, Lord Edward,” I reply, deliberately keeping my tone clipped as we too venture out into the courtyard in Bella and Geoffrey’s wakes. “Yet I must say, I am quite shocked to see you here, and agreeing to witness your sister’s marriage to a man you disapproved of...”

“My father behaves in mysterious ways,” he replies, shrugging his strong, lean shoulders as we walk together. “If he truly believes Geoffrey’s love for Bella was not genuine, then he would not have allowed the match. As such, he allowed it, and the match is happening.”

“Is that why you have not permitted yourself wedded bliss?” I ask as we round a bend, the chapel appearing in our line of sight. “Is that why you cannot bring yourself to love, Lord Edward? Do you think it a myth?”

Lord Edward’s mouth turns into a flat line, almost as if he is trying and failing to remain serious. “I don’t believe love is a myth, Elizabeth,” he says, forgetting propriety as he merely addresses me by my Christian name. “However, after my father succumbed to lust countless times over the course of his marriage to my lady mother, I find myself rather disillusioned on the whole matter of love, for when I do fall in love, I wish it to be with my full heart. I do not believe a heart is something to be given away lightly.”

“No,” I say quietly, hesitating upon the steps of the chapel, watching as Bella and Geoffrey are distracted with finding the archbishop. “No, I think you’re right, Edward. We must attempt to be truly in love with whomever we find ourselves married to.”

“Have you ever loved?” he asked then, turning to face me then.

I feel my breath catching in my throat, and as he gazes at me so boldly, I find I cannot stop myself. Of course, he behaved most improperly when he had merely grabbed me and kissed me, but I found then that I wished to have his lips upon mine again. I dropped his arm in mine then, not taking my eyes from his, and closed the distance between us and put my lips on his. It was as quick as it was innocent, but when I pulled away, I found that Edward looked very nearly dumbstruck, almost as if he wished it to occur again.

“Elizabeth?” he whispered.

“Yes?” I answered.

He stared into the chapel again, and as my eyes followed his, we found that Bella and Geoffrey had gone into another room. Taking my hand, he pulled me to where the pillars were located on either side of the chapel, and pushed me up against one of them. He chuckled at my small gasp which inadvertently escaped my throat, before leaning down and kissing me again, with as much force and passion as he had over six months ago.

Acting of my own volition, I found myself throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him back. His lips were soft in feeling yet rough with passion on mine, and I felt my heart beating in every inch of my body at the feeling of his hands on me. Shaking, and even knowing the sin I carried for feeling this way in the House of the Lord, I found my reasoning going out the window as I found I liked his hands on me. I wished we were truly alone then, knowing what could happen, and yet I became frightened of it, knowing that such things could happen if a young, unmarried couple was alone...

“Eliza?” Bella called.

“Edward?” Geoffrey called.

Immediately, Edward and I tore away from our embrace, and it made me hot all over to see that he held desire in his eyes. Smiling, we managed to come from two totally different directions so as not to get anyone suspicious. I went to stand beside Bella, and Edward stood beside Geoffrey, and we forced ourselves to listen to the archbishop as Bella shed her title of Lady Isabelle Chadwick to become Lady Isabelle, Viscountess Winthrop.

. . . 

It was a delicious feeling—being young and in love with the idea of being in love, truly it was. As Bella left my chambers for a suite of rooms she would share with Geoffrey, I focused on serving the queen, and catching secret moments with Edward, who was at court more than ever, as his father’s health was beginning to fade and the queen needed him as a representative for the Chadwick family. Edward was only happy to comply, and whenever we would move to another palace, we would manage to find a secret enclave somewhere to kiss and run our hands along our bodies. This continued for months on end, and, quite soon, summer had ended and given way to autumn, followed by a cold winter.

Snow covered the grounds surrounding Greenwich Palace, and it was quite lovely to see the thick, powdery substance around, for the court became young again in their mischief. Edward, however, would stop the snowball fights once I came walking by, and excused himself from his comrades to walk with me. I told him that he should make time for them, but he refused to listen, his eyes dark with desire, as he took my arm in his. Whenever there was a dangerous snowbank, he was quick to warn me of it, or, at least, make a grab for me to make sure I did not inadvertently fall into it.

It was approximately a week after the New Year when Edward became surprisingly distant from me. I thought it had something to do with dear Bella, who had lost her first child in the dead of winter, but that was not it. Edward seemed very nearly angry with himself, and this lasted until the end of the month. Worried for him, yet not wanting to bother Bella with this so soon after her child’s death, I decided to confront Edward myself.

I spotted him speaking with other gentleman of the court as I walked with Bella one afternoon. I kept a watchful eye on her; it has only been a full month since she had lost her first baby, and I didn’t want for her to over-exert herself. I saw Geoffrey among the men Edward spoke with, along with Edward’s close friend, Charles Radclyffe, who always had a kind word for me. Edward spoke as highly of Charles as he did of Geoffrey, and while I knew he was a loyal gentleman, I could not understand why he did not break away from them to speak to me. As I walked by with Bella, Geoffrey excused himself and exchanged pleasantries with me before he and Bella went off together, and I was alone.

I was about to turn the corner then when Edward suddenly excused himself from his companions and came up behind me. Turning, he feel into step beside me, taking my arm almost out of habit as we rounded the bend. As we turned the corner, and after I realized we were alone, I dropped his arm and turned to face him, and he seemed shocked at my behavior.

“What is the matter?” I demanded then, my voice catching in my throat as I attempted to keep my voice down.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been silent towards me for weeks, other than the occasional pleasantry my way!” I say, the hurt radiating through my voice as I attempted to stay calm with him. “I don’t understand, Edward. Have I done something to make you feel averse towards me?”

Edward checks himself then, lowering his eyes. “No, it is not that.”

“Then what is it, then?” I whisper, stepping closer, reaching out for one of his hands and taking it. “Is it your mother or father? Is someone in your family unwell? Please, tell me what it is so I might help you...”

Edward raises his eyes to mine. “That’s not how this works.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I am supposed to help you with your troubles, Elizabeth.”

I shake my head. “I’ll not be helped by you unless you accept my assistance if you ever have need of it,” I reply. “You are important to me, Edward, and if I am in the position to help you, let me do so.”

“You cannot help me with this...predicament, Elizabeth...”

“How can I not?” I whispered, realizing how close we stood then, my heart in my throat—I’d not been this close to him in weeks. “How can I not help you, Edward? If someone I care for is in an unfortunate situation, I feel it is my duty to at least attempt to help them...”

“There is nothing to be done for it, Elizabeth. Nothing.”

“Edward!” I whispered then, feeling as if my entire world was ending. “Please tell me you are not dying!”

“Dying?” he asked.

I nodded. “If you are dying, I feel I shall die, too!” I cried out then, clutching his hands in mine. “If you die, I shall throw myself off the highest balcony I can find, for I’ll not live without you! I could not bear it!”

Edward looked shocked at my words then, gazing down at me then, almost as if he suddenly possessed a new understanding. “What is it you’re telling me, now, Elizabeth?” he asked, cupping my face in his hand.

I leaned into his hand, starved for his touch. “I could not live without you, Edward, I could not,” I whispered, turning my face into his palm and kissing it in a moment of tenderness. “If you are leaving to be with the Lord Himself, allow me to know so that I might join you...” I said, my voice growing softer with each word, as I felt the tears prick from inside my lashes as I stared up at him. “I could not live without you...”

“I find that your statement is true for me as well, Elizabeth,” Edward replies. “I have struggled these last several weeks to tell you that...”

“That you cannot live without me?” I asked. “Oh, Edward, truly, that is not something of which you should have struggled so long with—”

“I love you,” he said then, almost as if he was fearful of saying it aloud, for then it would be true.

I felt my eyes widen then. “What?” I whispered.

“I love you, Elizabeth Beaumont,” he declared.

I felt my grip tighten on him then, at the moment his did upon me. “I love you, too, Edward,” I declared then, tilting my head back so as he could dip his head and kiss me. “My Edward...my Lord Chadwick...”

“My Elizabeth,” Edward replied to me without hesitation. “My Lady Elizabeth Beaumont...”


	3. A Refusal and Happenstance

Edward was called from court as springtime arrived, yet he swore to write to me in his absence. He was only taking a few men with him, and so I slipped down to the stables the morning he was due to leave. We walked to the groom’s rooms in the stables, holding one another and just whispering. It was a cool morning, and the dewdrops were still readily apparent on the blades of spring grass as I’d slipped to the stables that morning.

“You’ll not be gone long?” I whispered.

“Never fear, my love, I will not be,” he replied, pulling back and placing his forehead against mine. “The physicians informed me that my father was worse during the winter, so I must go and be assured of his recovery.”

I nodded. “Of course, I understand,” I whisper as he pulls his cloak around the pair of us. “I only wish I could go with you.”

“You’ll have much to do at court, now that springtime is here,” Edward tells me patiently yet encouragingly. “Her Majesty will likely be planning picnics and grand balls—you’ll not miss me.”

“Oh, but I shall!” I cried out then, throwing myself into his arms with a soft wail into his doublet. “I’ll never survive without you, Edward!”

“Elizabeth, it will be fine,” he tells me, gently easing my arms from around him then and kissing me. “I love you.”

“And I you,” I reply, kissing him on the mouth before leaving out the back door of the groom’s bedchamber. Turning, I saw Edward step out into the stable yard then, signaling to his men that he was ready to go. I watched as he climbed up onto his horse without much difficulty, before he spurred the animal and cantered off into the distance. I turned around on the path, my eyes filling with tears as I made my way towards the chapel, and threw myself down at the altar, and prayed that Edward would be safe on his journey back home.

. . .

The month of April began and springtime was now in full bloom, with longer days and warmer nights. Geoffrey was called from court to tend to his uncle, Gilbert, who wanted company in his old age. Bella, although she missed her husband, did not mind, for the Lord had smiled on the both of them and she was now with child again. Bella could not have been a happier bride, for she walked down the castle corridors with her belly out—just a nip of a thing but still jutting slightly outwards nonetheless—and was quite busy thinking of suitable names for her first child.

“The physicians tell me it’s healthy,” she told me as we sat in her elegant suite of rooms one afternoon, a full month after Edward had gone, and a fortnight after Geoffrey had left court. “Mayhap it shall quicken in the coming weeks and soon we’ll have an heir.”

“Did they say when?” I asked.

“October, they said,” Bella replied plaintively, running a hand upon her barely-swollen belly as she considered it.

“Does Geoffrey have a mind to send you to Raincourt Castle?” I ask, not wishing to lose my lover and best friend, too.

Bella nods. “Of course, but he knows that I’ll not leave court without you,” she informs me with a smile. “He’s going to go to Beaumont Manor on his way back here to ask for your mother and father’s consent on the matter.”

I smile at that. “I would very much like to see the home that Geoffrey is going to inherit,” I reply. “He’s spoken so fondly of it these last several months, you would think he considers it his home.”

Bella smiled at the mention of her husband. “He does, bless him. He cannot wait to show it to me. He was so disappointed that Her Majesty could not spare me after the wedding, but I think that she’ll release me in August, giving me a generous amount of time before the birth.”

“When do you expect to return to court?” I ask.

“Geoffrey says he does not want me returning until the New Year, although I believe he secretly wishes to get me with child again before that happens,” she replies with a twitter.

“He wants a houseful of children then?” I ask.

Bella nods. “Oh, yes. A houseful.” She lowers her eyes then, tracing her fingers along her belly. “I just hope I can provide that for him. I hope there will be no more dead babies...”

“I’ve prayed on it, Bella,” I whisper, leaning forward and clutching at her hands tightly. “You need not fear. The Lord is on your side and he shall not bring you heartbreak a second time.”

Bella smiles. “Keep praying on it, Eliza,” she says softly, “as I shall pray for you that Edward makes you his wife.”

. . .

In May, I was quite busy with my fetching and carrying for the queen, as my work had doubled now that Bella was only given light tasks because of her pregnancy. It did not matter to me; with Edward absent from court, I appreciated the work laid out for me, and was always able to do the tasks quickly and in an efficient manner. The queen was always satisfied with my work, and even would let me sit at a more opportune place at the ladies table every night at dinner.

When May entered its second week, I received a letter from Edward, as well as from my mother and father. I decided it only right to open the letter from my mother and father first. As I sat in my chambers on my own, in the window embrasure, I gazed at both seals of the letters before I broke the one from Beaumont Manor and read it.

_Dearest Elizabeth,_

_Joyous news from Beaumont Manor as your brother, Thomas’s wife, Honor has been delivered of a son just seven days ago. He has been christened Roger Thomas Philip Henry Beaumont, and we none of us could be happier for the Beaumont name. Honor is well following the birth, and Thomas is beside himself at the birth of a son. Two-year-old Anne is absolutely besotted with her younger brother, as we all are._

_We have heard from Isabelle’s husband, Lord Geoffrey, that he would very much like it if you were to make the journey to Raincourt Castle, his ancestral home, this summer when Isabelle enters her confinement. I should think it would be most appropriate for you to be there for your close friend, Elizabeth. She comes from a good family, as does Geoffrey, and mayhap they know a suitable young man for you._

_We are all thinking of you at court in London, my dearest. St. James’s Palace was a great favorite of mine when I served Her Majesty as a young girl. She stays there because it reminds her of her mother, Anne Boleyn, and how much she was devoted to King Henry. _

_Your loving mother,_

_Lady Anne, Countess of Beaumont_

Next, I thought it right to open the letter from Edward, for I knew my beloved would expect a hasty reply. I set aside the letter from my mother, knowing that I would have to write her quite soon. Picking up Edward’s letter, I saw his careful, even strokes on the inside if I held it up to the light, and smiled to myself at his caring. Breaking the seal, I spread the pages, my heart skipping a beat as I fancied I still smelled him within the parchment.

_Dearest Heart,_

_I am writing to you at the first moment I have an opportunity to do so. My father is most unwell and the physicians tell me and my lady mother that they believe he will not last the summer. Although he and I were never the closest father and son, he and I have come to an understanding in what prove to be his final days. I am able to take him for turns about the gardens for a quarter of an hour each day, until exhaustion overtakes him, and I am forced to put him to bed._

_It is a queer thing, my darling, seeing him like this; it is almost as if he is a wee babe who no longer understands which way is up. He is sweet and kind to my lady mother and to myself most days, and then there are moments of clarity, when he returns to his proper senses and becomes himself again. While he was not a father to me during his lifetime—apart from informing me of my duty as Lord Chadwick and as the future Duke of Chadwick—I knew he always meant well. It was not because he wanted to be particularly terrible to me, Elizabeth, it was because he did not know the difference in the first place._

_I know you will wish for me to return to court and be by your side, as I faithfully promised I would. Alas, with my father so weak, I fear to leave him would swiftly bring the end. I wish to have these final moments with him, no matter how brief they may be, so as he passes from this life into the next with comfort. As I said, he will not last the summer, my darling, so when autumn arrives, I shall be there with you. _

_I’ve heard tell that Geoffrey has asked for you to accompany Bella to Raincourt Castle when she enters her confinement. I think such a thing to be a wonderful arrangement, as I myself have made plans to be there for the christening. Although my elder sisters, Frances and Thomasine, have children of their own, I was not as close to them as I was to Bella, so, in a way, this shall truly be my first niece or nephew. _

_I shall await you at Raincourt Castle, my darling, this autumn, without fail._

_Your dear friend,_

_Edward, Lord Chadwick_

I felt my eyes swim with unshed tears for a number of reasons. One, that Edward’s father was ill, and that meant that Edward would likely become Duke of Chadwick far sooner than we all believed. Secondly, that once Edward became the duke, he would be farther from my reach than ever, as he would be expected to marry a woman of merit. And thirdly, because I would not see my beloved until after Bella had had her baby.

. . . 

The summer indeed was full of picnics and banquets; the queen was much taken up with courting dignitaries from foreign kingdoms, as Lord Burghley constantly wanted for her to make a match somewhere. Despite the notion that the queen was over forty, she was still as youthful and vibrant as ever, and her most trusted advisor wanted to use her as a bargaining chip. The queen, however, would not be bought, and made the summer the summer of empty promises, never committing to any one man or kingdom.

With Bella advancing into her pregnancy quickly, the queen had me sit with her during some afternoons, as Geoffrey had been called to the French court this time, to see how the peace treaty with England was working out. I didn’t know much about it, and was content to sit with Bella throughout the weeks of early summer, as the month of June wore on. Bella turned sixteen, and her beloved Geoffrey, ever-generous, sent her special velvets from France, as well as jewels, to appease her.

“Just look at this,” Bella said in mock-admonishment, holding up a necklace dripping with diamonds and rubies.

“It’s beautiful,” I replied.

Bella laughed, tossing it over to me. “It’s for you.”

I blink. “What?”

“Listen,” she says, taking up her letter from Geoffrey. “‘My darling, it would be unfair of me not to send our dear friend Eliza a piece of appreciation as well. It is what the noble French ladies are wearing at King Henri’s court. Please give this to Eliza with my compliments, as I know she has expressed a fondness for rubies and diamonds.’”

I shake my head, getting to my feet as I cross to the mirror, managing to clip the necklace about my throat. “It is lovely, Bella, truly,” I say, awed, as I turn around to face her. “What do you think?” I ask, raising my neck. “Does it truly suit me, then?”

Bella clapped her hands. “Marvelous,” she replies, lowering her eyes to the other gifts that Geoffrey had sent. “He states that the seamstress at Raincourt Castle is at my disposal, and yet I believe I should await the birth of the baby before I ask her to make anything...”

I step towards her then, smiling at her and returning to my chair. “Well, just think of it, Bella—in a few short months, you’ll have a beautiful baby for you and an heir for Geoffrey. What could be more marvelous than that?” I ask, truly coming up with nothing.

Bella shakes her head. “I cannot think of a thing,” she proclaims then. “Of course, I hope for a boy, so that I may call it Edward for your beloved and for my father...”

“Edward informed me that he was not particularly close with your father,” I said quietly, not wanting to upset her in the slightest. “Were you and he close to one another?” I want to know.

Bella smiles. “He was a good father to me, and for some odd reason, I believe I was the only child he truly cared about. Frances and Thomasine couldn’t be married off fast enough, and he and Edward were always at odds with one another, it seemed...”

I purse my lips and shake my head. “Mayhap he and Edward can come to an understanding,” I reply.

“Before the end,” Bella says solemnly, reaching out to grip my hand.

“Before the end,” I agree.

. . . 

I turned sixteen the following month and was pleased that the queen gave me a pearl necklace and wished me well. Bella gave me a bolt of velvet she had gotten from Geoffrey in France, informing me that it was to be held onto, on her husband’s orders, until my birthday. It was a breathtaking scarlet, and I had the seamstress work double time to have it ready for a ball by the end of the month, of which the queen informed me I was to attend. I had new scarlet slippers for the occasion, and I was permitted to wear my hair long and loose. I painted my lips red that evening, and darkened the skin on my eyelids with coal, and felt every inch a lady.

With my ruby and diamond necklace clipped about my neck, and my gown with belled sleeves and an oval bodice about me, I walked with Bella down to the banqueting hall for dinner. Bella was to sit at the ladies table that evening, as dancing was considered ill-advised for her, so far along in her pregnancy. I led her to the ladies table firstly and, upon turning around, let out a cry of joy as I saw my mother, father, elder brother Thomas, and his wife, Honor, had made the journey from court. Gleeful, I ran up to them all and embraced them in turn, taking Honor aside briefly to discuss how my niece and nephew were doing these last months.

The queen called for dancing immediately thereafter, and I was all too pleased to partake in this activity. Turning around to see who I would partner, I felt myself gasp aloud then as I spotted Edward coming towards me through the crowd that seemed to part around me. He extended his hand towards mine and I took it as the musicians struck up a chord. Edward and I advanced upon the other dancing partners then, and he turned and spun me quickly; it was quite a lovely romp.

“I didn’t know you’d returned,” I whispered, awestruck.

“Try to smile,” he replied softly. “One would think you’d seen a ghost. Be calm about it, Elizabeth,” he told me.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I thought you would stay at Chadwick Hall,” I say then, finding that I am grinning up at him.

“My father has been doing better of late, and I thought a little excursion into London—especially for my beloved’s birthday—was necessary.”

“_Sixteenth_ birthday,” I say, wishing to drive the point home that I was truly not a little girl anymore. “I am sixteen now. All but a lady.”

“You have been a lady from the moment I kissed you,” Edward replied, his eyes darkening then at the memory.

“I was fourteen then, you blaggard,” I hiss underneath my breath, and failing to keep from laughing.

Edward flattens his mouth then, trying to keep laughter from escaping his lips and managing to succeed. “Well, I would have thought you would have been pleased to see me...”

“Oh, I am, I am!” I say, forcing myself to keep my voice down. “Immensely so, Edward, truly...” I bit my lips then, looking around.

“What?” he asked.

“If we were alone,” I said, keeping my voice low, “I would tell you and show you just how much,” I told him, my cheeks heating at the notion that I’d dared to say such a thing.

“Hopefully we can slip away later,” Edward says, taking my hand in his and kissing it as the dance ends. “Then you can truly show me how much.”

Heart in my throat, I managed to stumble back to the ladies table, but the queen had other ideas. Sensing her eyes on me, I turned to her then, giving her a curtsy, and feeling myself go pale as she beckoned me forth. Forced to obey, I approached the dais and knelt, peeking upwards for my next command. When she beckoned me a second time, I climbed two stairs, struggling into a second kneeling position until finally, the queen had had enough.

“Come and stand beside me, Lady Elizabeth,” she said, giving a lighthearted chuckle as my nearly falling. “Come on, now.”

Getting to my feet, I gripped my skirts and came forth, standing beside her throne and curtsying again. “You sent for me, Your Majesty. Are you feeling at all hungry or thirsty?”

The queen shook her head. “No, I am quite all right, Lady Elizabeth.”

I turned and followed her line of sight to survey the court at their dance. “It is almost as if it is an entertainment, Your Majesty,” I said quietly.

“Quite right,” the queen replied, turning to face me. “And one day, when you are married and have a home of your own, you too shall experience such a thing, my dear.”

I turned to look at her. “Married, Your Majesty?” I asked.

The queen smiled at me, almost as if she was shocked that I believed she would permit me to remain unmarried as she had done for so long. “Well of course, Lady Elizabeth—you are the only daughter of an earl who is loyal to me. You are quite a prize.”

I shook my head, and forced myself to smile again, knowing that I could not, under any circumstances, present myself as ungrateful for this declaration, no matter how sudden it was. “I am honored, Your Majesty, that you would consider me for wedded bliss,” I tell her.

“Charles Radclyffe is a good catch,” she tells me softly, naming Edward’s close friend, who I’d often danced with. “Lord Radclyffe has a good income and comes from a good family. His uncle is the Duke of Radcliffe, and although he has a son of his own, I believe that Charles will one day inherit the dukedom from him...”

“Is the Duke of Radclyffe’s son an unkind man, Your Majesty?” I asked, never having met him in all my life.

The queen laughs. “Oh no—he is kind enough. He is called Anthony,” she tells me patiently. “Anthony Radclyffe is often sick in his bed. He’s not been at court since he was a teenager and even then, he was ill. Poor lad... However, I think a match between you and Lord Radclyffe is something worth thinking on, Lady Elizabeth.”

I nod, curtsying to her, although my heart breaks at the notion of me marrying anyone but Edward. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I reply.

. . .

August began and Bella and I proceeded to gather our belongings together for our trip to Raincourt Castle. Geoffrey, not wishing to miss the birth of his first child, was attempting to hurry up negotiations in France in an effort to return to Bella quickly. I was pleased that, even though Geoffrey was away, that Bella would have me with her during the dark hours of her confinement. Having heard nothing from Edward since his return to Chadwick Hall, I wondered if I should inform him of the queen’s decision that I should be betrothed to Charles Radclyffe by Christmas should pass through to his ears.

The second week in August came and Bella and I were given permission to leave Hampton Court for Colchester, of which we would have to leave by dawn to ensure that Bella was there quickly. I arose before dawn from the small bed I’d made up in the chamber Bella shared with Geoffrey, my belongings with me to safeguard that we could leave for Colchester as quickly as possible. Bella awoke with no trouble, and we hastily dressed one another in the semi-darkness for travel.

We met the Winthrop guards in the stables, who were entrusted with our safekeeping for the duration of the journey. They loaded our belongings into our saddlebags, not wanting to attract attention on the road with a cart. As long as we road quickly yet not dangerously, Bella was permitted on horseback, and although it worried me, a physician had informed Bella that it was her choice whether or not to do so. Just as the sun was beginning to creep up over the green surrounding us, we were on the road away from court.

We stopped midway for refreshment, and Bella seemed grateful to be out of the saddle for a brief period. She ate some of the dried meat and cheese, but seemed keener on the wine, sipping it lightly so as not to upset the baby. After nearly an hour, our guards informed us that we’d best get a move on, I helped Bella to her feet and brought her to her horse. Gently getting her up into the saddle was another matter, but we managed.

The sun was lowering in the sky as the day was beginning to finish, but the captain of the guard finally announced that we’d reached Colchester, and that Raincourt Castle was not far. We finally came to a small valley wherein I’d heard the castle was located, and Bella let out a cry of joy as she saw it. I knew that she’d never been there, but Geoffrey had certainly described it enough to her that she would know it on sight.

“We’re here, Viscountess Winthrop, Lady Elizabeth,” the captain of the guard told us jovially, seemingly pleased at Bella’s relief. He came into the courtyard at the front of the house, and the clattering of hooves must have alerted the household, for the door suddenly opened and Geoffrey’s aunt and uncle stood there for a moment before stepping outside. “I brought them safe and sound my lord marquess, my lady marchioness,” the captain said informatively.

“Thank you, Andrew,” Marquess Gilbert said and approached Bella’s horse immediately, grabbing the reins with a kindhearted smile. “My dear niece, it is wonderful to have you home at last.”

“Uncle Gilbert!” Bella cried out, as if greeting an old friend, and swung one leg off from around the horse and slipped from it, whereupon Marquess Gilbert caught her immediately.

“How was your journey?” Marchioness Agnes asked, stepping forward and looking over Bella, as the marquess came to me.

“You must be Lady Elizabeth Beaumont, Bella’s dearest friend,” he said in the same affectionate tone. “I’ll help you down.”

I swung my leg out from around my horse as well and slipped down, getting caught immediately thereafter by the marquess. “Thank you, my lord, for allowing me into your home.”

“Oh, come off it,” he said gently. “Geoffrey thinks of you quite as a sister, so I am just as much your uncle as I am his or Bella’s.”

“Uncle Gilbert, then,” I said with a laugh.

Gilbert joined in my laughter. “There we are, then,” he said, leading me over to Agnes, and I immediately curtsied to her.

“My lady marchioness, it is a great honor—”

“Aunt Agnes,” she said, a gleam in her eyes. “I am your aunt as well, my dear child. Welcome to Raincourt Castle.”

“It is beautiful,” I say as Gilbert puts a free arm around Bella’s shoulders as he leads us inside.

. . .

The months passed quickly at Raincourt, and I settled in quite quickly, as the kindhearted Gilbert and Agnes were generous with their time and with their wealth. Whenever a merchant came by with jewels or velvet for gowns, Gilbert and Agnes were quick to pull out some gold coins and shower Bella and I with gifts. I never made it a point to ask for anything, as they were already letting me to stay with them and eat at their table every day. I wanted for nothing, and yet I was pleased that I was also permitted to use their messengers to send letters to my mother and father.

When October dawned, Bella, her belly looming large as she attempted to move from one room to the next, was kept a careful watch upon, as we did not want her to come to any harm. By the third week of October, Bella was told not to leave her bedroom, and that is when, in the middle of the week, her pains formally began. With Gilbert on instructions to write to Geoffrey on his return from France—he had boarded a ship which would take him Calais the week before—we were running out of time. I was called to Bella’s bedside during the early hours of the ordeal, her face pinched with her pain.

“Edward has not been writing because of our lord father,” she says softly, and grips my hand on a wave of pain. “I cannot say more... Please, Eliza, write to him and beg him to come here. Please...”

Leaving her with Agnes, I rushed to my chambers then and made a grab for a piece of parchment and my ink pot. Dipping the quill into the ink, I felt my hand shake at the enormity of what was happening. I could hear Bella’s screams of terror and pain through the walls, and knew that I would have to go to chapel immediately thereafter to pray for her.

_Edward—_

_I know not why you refuse to write to me, so I am doing so to you. Bella is in labor and will have her child in a matter of hours or a day, according to Agnes. She must not be upset, but she bids me to write to you and demand that you come to Raincourt Castle in Colchester at once. She has need of you, Edward, more so than ever._

_The queen indeed wishes for me to be betrothed at Christmas, to one Lord Charles Radclyffe, your good friend. It pains me to say so, Edward, but with your silence, I am afraid I must bend to her will. I’ve promised nothing, but no words from you will silence all my hopes and dreams for a love match forever._

_Please hurry to us. We all have need of you._

_Lady Elizabeth Beaumont_

I go at the run to one of the messengers at Raincourt and hand off the letter, telling him to bring it to Chadwick Hall in Blackpool. He tells me he knows the house and I am gladdened for it, giving him two gold coins for his trouble, and promising him three upon his return if he is back before nightfall. I know it will be nearly impossible for him to do, but the day had hardly begun. Perhaps if he truly hurried, Edward could be with us all and quickly.

Just as I am about to go to chapel to pray for Bella’s soul, I am summoned back to her chambers, where she begs to know if I’ve written to Edward. I assure her that I have and she seems relieved to hear it, gripping at my hand. I tell Agnes that I shall stay with Bella, and she seems relieved. She kisses Bella upon the forehead and leaves the stuffy room, while I gently push the hairs from Bella’s forehead and attempt to sooth her.

“It is all right,” I say gently, pushing her bolsters into place. “It shan’t be long, Bella, I swear it. Uncle Gilbert has already written to Geoffrey—he was in Calais last week, remember? He could not have been delayed much, and soon he will be home to you...”

“Home to me...” Bella whispered.

“And I’ve written to Edward,” I tell her quietly. “I’ve sent the youngest and fastest messenger for the job to get to Blackpool and back. I hope he shall read it and return with the messenger by nightfall.”

“Have you told him?” she asks between moans of pain. “Have you told him of the queen’s desire to have you wed to Lord Charles Radclyffe?”

“I made mention of it, after informing him of your situation,” I reply, knowing I should not have troubled Edward with it in the first place. “I didn’t want to, Bella, but I could not help myself...”

Bella shakes her head. “No,” she agrees. “If Her Majesty attempted to betroth me to another, I would certainly inform Geoffrey of it... Ow!” she screams then and shivers, gripping onto my hand again. “Please God it is a boy and Geoffrey shall not demand another child from me for a time...”

“Please God,” I reply, just wanting Bella to come out of this safely. “Please God you are both well.”

Agnes returns after a time and I venture back out into the rest of the castle, going to the kitchen to get something to eat. The cooks give me some fresh bread and cheese, and I am pleased with this. I eat it quickly before venturing outside, savoring the coolness the autumn air brings. My hair is pulled back into a braid which goes down my back, and my sleeves are turned up at the elbows to keep them ready for assistance.

It is twilight, and the sun is threatening to extinguish over the edge of the mountains, and I look out at the path beyond, seeing nothing. Just as I am about to turn to return into the house, I hear hoofbeats off in the distance and find I cannot believe my ears. Watching the path which goes from the courtyard and slopes around to the main road, see the same messenger from this morning, with Edward just behind him on horseback. Shocked at this unexpected turn of events, I hastily hand over the gold coins to him before he goes into the kitchens for refreshment, while Edward turns to me.

“Where is Bella?”

“Still in labor,” I reply. “Agnes is in there with her. She’s all right.” I turn towards the kitchens then, motioning to where the messenger has gone inside to eat after the long journey. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

Edward shakes his head. “No.”

I nod then. “Well, I am quite sure Bella has need of me...”

“Elizabeth,” Edward says softly, reaching out then and catching at my arm. “I don’t want you to go...”

I turn and look at him, forcing myself to keep the tears from my eyes. “Your sister has need of me...”

“Don’t...” He whispers. “Please...”

We are interrupted by a third set of hoofbeats, and Geoffrey himself comes around the corner, shocked at seeing us there, and Edward drops my arm as if it has burned him. He takes the horse into the courtyard, where a groom arrives to collect it, before approaching the pair of us then, grief on his face. “Who is attending my wife?” he demands, his voice sharper than he’d originally intended it to be. “Is she all right?”

“Agnes is attending her,” I reply, “but now that you are here, I should see to her.” I turn around then and make my way into the castle again, and up the staircase and towards Bella’s bedchamber. I hear her screaming again and open the door, Agnes encouraging her. This time a midwife is kneeling before her as I shut the door behind me, and I know the time is now.

“She’s almost there,” Agnes confirms as I sit by Bella’s side.

“I’m here, Bella,” I say gently, and she immediately grips my hand.

“Geoffrey?” she whispers through her screams. “Edward?”

“They’re all right,” I reply, forcing myself not to gasp at her grip upon my hand as it bordered upon painful. “They’ve only just arrived.”

“Here?” Bella whimpers.

I nod. “Yes. Here, in the kitchens, I presume.”

“I am glad for it,” she replies then, gasping then as the midwife grips upon her legs and forces them apart. “Eliza! Agnes! Help me!” she screams in a panic as the midwife darts in between her legs then and takes ahold of something before pulling it, sending Bella screaming again. “I’m splitting into two!” she yells out then before falling back upon the bolsters as the midwife holds onto something quite small.

The midwife painstakingly brought it over to a basin filled with water and cleaned it up, sucking the fluid from its mouth then as it made a resounding cry off the walls of the castle. Agnes and I mutually breathed a sigh of relief as the infant was wrapped up and brought directly to Bella, who reached out and took ahold of it, looking it over. As Agnes and I watched over Bella’s shoulder her actions towards the infant, she pulled back the cloth and let out a resounding cry of sorrow.

“No...” She whispered then. “I’ve failed...”

Peeking, I saw that the baby was a girl, and, despite the midwife’s assertions that it was healthy, Bella handed the squalling thing to me. I decided it would be best to take it out to present to Geoffrey, hoping that he would not be disappointed. Mentioning this to Agnes, she agreed immediately and I took out the little girl, making my way to the kitchens and managing to keep her quiet as we arrived.

Geoffrey immediately get to his feet and gave a cry when he saw the infant and took it immediately. “Beautiful...” He whispered as Edward came up behind him to have a look.

“Gorgeous,” he agreed.

“It is a girl,” I said quietly, yet Geoffrey did not seem to mind either way. “The midwife says she is strong and healthy.”

“How is Bella?” Edward asked, and Geoffrey looked up to hear my answer to the question about his wife.

“Sad,” I reply, turning to Geoffrey. “She believes she has failed you for birthing a daughter.”

“What nonsense!” Gilbert cries, emerging from his study and taking a peek at the baby. “A beautiful child—as beautiful as her mother. If not a son now then perhaps next time.”

“What shall her name be?” Geoffrey asks, suddenly bewildered.

“Agnes’s mother, your grandmother, was called Temperance,” Gilbert says gently, taking a look at the baby again. “Hair as red as that,” he says, regarding the infant’s head, “and quite a force to be reckoned with.”

“Bella’s and my grandmother was called Frances,” Edward put in.

“Temperance Elizabeth Frances Agnes Winthrop,” Geoffrey said, a little look at me when he said my name.

“Beautiful,” Geoffrey declared.

“Lovely,” I put in.

“Perfect,” Edward replied.

. . . 

I was permitted to remain at Raincourt Castle until Christmas, until such a time as my betrothal could be arranged. I was able to convince Bella enough that Geoffrey, Gilbert, Agnes, Edward, and I were not disappointed in her about the birth of a daughter, and she seemed satisfied with that. I was surprised when Edward remained at Raincourt, and I firmly believed that it was due to my letter sent before Temperance’s birth.

We finally got a moment alone in the first week of November, when he was not in constant correspondence with various members of his household and with the queen herself. I was sitting in the garden one afternoon, taking the air in my autumn cloak, writing a letter to my mother about Temperance’s christening, to take place the following morning. I was to be named godmother to Edward’s godfather, and I found myself growing uneasy at the thought of us in such close proximity due to the events of the last days.

Just as I finished the letter and got the messenger to take it away for me, I saw Edward coming towards me then. I knelt in a brief curtsy, expecting him to go back in the house to converse with Geoffrey or Gilbert, as he had often done this past fortnight. However, Edward approached me directly, and even seemed pleased to find me alone.

“Shall we walk?” he asked.

“We may,” I replied.

Edward took my arm and I nearly gasped aloud at his hand on me, yet said nothing as we walked about the gardens. “Temperance is lovely.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Would that we all could have a baby as lovely and as good-tempered as that.”

“Certainly leaves the namesake to the imagination...”

“I certainly don’t know what you mean,” I reply.

Edward stopped in his tracks then, and I turned to look at him. “Will you accept the queen’s offer to marry you to Charles?”

I shrugged. “I’ve no reason not to. He is a good man and such a match is certainly an advantageous one...”

Edward dropped my arm then and advanced towards me, tilting my chin up and sighed. “You’ve one reason not to, Elizabeth—for the love you bear me. I certainly believe that such a reason is—”

“The love I bear you?” I demand. “What of the love you bear me, Edward? Am I to believe you still care for me? When you did not inform me of your father’s death and the notion that you are now Duke of Chadwick?”

Edward sighs. “Elizabeth, you have to understand that I never intended for any of this to happen—to love you, any of it...”

“Why?” I demand then, catching at his face then and securing it in my palms so as he will look at me. “Why can you not allow yourself to be hopelessly in love with me as I am with you?”

“I have allowed myself,” Edward replies, letting me go and going down to one knee then, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring. “I’ll try to be better about speaking to you in the future...”

“Edward...” I whisper.

“...but as for right now, I love you, Elizabeth.”

“I love you, Edward,” I reply.

“Then marry me,” he says. “Elizabeth, marry me.”

“I cannot!” I cry out. “What of my betrothal to Charles? I cannot go against the queen, Edward! Think of Katherine and Mary Grey, who did so, and the pair of them were the queen’s own cousins!” I cry out, desperate to find another way of going about this.

“But you are not a princess of the blood, Elizabeth, nor are you formally betrothed to Charles yet,” he replies steadily. “Elizabeth Catherine Matilda Eleanor Beaumont, will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” I whispered then, hardly believing what I was saying.

Edward rose up then and placed the ring upon my finger, and I let out a shout and threw my arms around him then, laughing echoing through the garden and along the walls. “As for Her Majesty, we shall figure her out together,” Edward declares then, and I nodded, eager for the results to come to pass.

. . . 

“And so, Your Majesty, I humbly beseech you and beg your pardon, but I cannot in good faith marry Lord Charles Radclyffe, as I am already pre-contracted to the Duke of Chadwick,” I say to the queen, finding my legs growing numb at being lowered for so long.

“You are not pre-contracted,” the queen says flatly.

I raise my eyes to hers. “Your Majesty?”

“You are not pre-contracted to the Duke of Chadwick,” the queen says again, her voice cold. “You are not pre-contracted because I will not allow it. I will allow your refusal of Lord Charles, but not your pre-contract to the Duke of Chadwick, for he cannot be yours.”

“He cannot?” I ask, dumbstruck.

“He cannot,” the queen rules. “He outranks you.”

I blink, lowering my eyes to the carpets, knowing that the queen is testing me and that I must not submit to fury. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I reply, nearly shaking with rage.

“You may go,” she says with a wave of her hand. 

I am seething with rage by the time I return from my meeting with the queen, so much so that I destroy my bedroom in the process. The maids are horrified but set it to rights for me. A physician comes to see me and says I have a fever, which excuses me from the queen’s service for a week. It is December by the time I have a visitor, and I am surprised to find it is my father.

“I hope you have not been too unwell,” he says, kissing my forehead.

“Not so much,” I reply, not going into detail. “How are things, Papa? Are things at Beaumont Manor well?”

He sighs. “Thomas is ill,” he replies. “Tuberculosis, the physician says, and poor Honor has got it, too.”

“Dear God, no!” I cry out.

“Poor Anne and Roger are so weak from exhaustion and worry that your mother and I fear the worse for them,” Papa admits. “We fear that this could be the end for all, Elizabeth.”

“I shall pray, Papa, I shall,” I say, determination in my voice. “You need not fear, for my prayers are answered.”

Papa remains at court for another few days before returning back to Beaumont Manor, where I hear nothing for three weeks. Pacing up and down my chambers I feel a trifle better when I hear that Honor is on the mend and is said to be with child again. I continue to pray, even though the news comes that Anne, my little niece, has died and passed into the Kingdom of Heaven. I feel sick with rage that everything is happening to my family, and stay shut up in my chambers for hours, all at prayer.

It is heartbreaking when I get the news just two days later that Thomas has died as well, and I find that my wails can be heard throughout the palace. Now my family’s heir was the little poppet, Roger, my nephew, who was not yet one year old. Honor was still holding on, although the infection had gripped her again, and had, by now, passed to Roger. I found myself weak from hunger, yet refused to eat until I received word from home. I wanted nothing but good news and glad tidings, and I feared I would receive neither.

Finally, as the New Year arrived, I prayed that good times would come to pass again, but it was not to be. A handwritten note from my father came a week after the year had begun, and I guessed that they had taken a proper amount of time to mourn before giving me the news. I almost did not need to read the letter, and yet I felt compelled to break the seal and do so anyhow.

_Dearest Elizabeth,_

_Sad tidings from Beaumont Manor. You will know by now that your brother, Thomas, and your niece, Anne, are no more. Prepare yourself, my girl, for now Honor and little Roger have perished from tuberculosis as well. Honor was able to deliver the child before her death—they named her Elizabeth for the queen and for you—but the poor thing died after just a few hours. _

_That leaves you, my precious daughter, as heir to it all. At the risk of infection, I am promptly amending my will, so that at my death, you will become Countess of Beaumont, as your mother once was. As the sole heiress to everything, I shall make it plain that my half-brother’s son, Arthur, shall have nothing. It has been you since you were a baby, Elizabeth, I know that now. Since you were found in the woods, I knew you would be the one destined for greatness._

_Despite the queen’s refusal, if you would like it, you have our support in your pursuit to wed Edward, Duke of Chadwick. I shall come to court if you ever have need of me to vouch for you, my love. All you need do is ask for me._

_At the risk of infection, burn this._

_Your father,_

_Philip, Earl of Beaumont_

I raised my eyes then, a sense of wonderment filling me then. Although I knew I would have to pray for the souls of Anne, Thomas, Honor, Roger, and Baby Elizabeth, something gave me pause. It was a strange sense of foreboding, and yet a sense of fulfillment.

I was now my father’s heir. From this moment until the moment he died, I was now Lady Beaumont. And from his death until my own, I would be known as the Countess of Beaumont. Such a notion could not be taken lightly, for now Queen Elizabeth could not think of me as just another one of her ladies, but an heiress in my own right. How could I ever even think of myself in the same way, now that I was no longer a mere lady?

Quickly, I went to my desk again and made a grab for a piece of parchment and a quill, knowing what I had to do. I felt myself shaking as I dipped the quill into the ink, wondering what I was to say. Finally, the words came to me, and I knew they had been there all along.

_Dear Edward,_

_You will have heard the news of my dear brother, Thomas’s, death. Thomas was predeceased by my niece, Anne, and then by his wife, Honor, his son, Roger, and a third child, called Elizabeth for me and for the queen. Although I am aggrieved at their losses, I know that they come at a price, a price that shall be forthcoming._

_I am now my father’s heir—my father’s only heir. As such, I stand to inherit Beaumont Manor, the land around it, and the title that comes with it. I shall become Countess of Beaumont upon his death, as nobody comes before me now. I know it is a great responsibility, but Papa has shown me how things work since I was a little girl, as my brothers were always quite sickly, and I had to know what was happening within the estate walls, on the off-chance that this event ever came to pass._

_If you still wish to marry me, then that wish is my desire. We shall await until my next birthday, my dearest, for my period of mourning shall be over by then, and the queen’s judgement shall be clear. If she makes no further mention of a match for me, or if she does insist I marry another, I propose to run. My father will support us, as will Geoffrey’s family, if circumstances call for it. I shall risk everything to be with you, my love, and if that risk is your desire, I suggest it comes to pass._

_I love you, my Edward. Do not forsake me._

_Your beloved,_

_Elizabeth, Lady Beaumont_


	4. Falsehoods and Destiny

I waited anxiously for Edward’s reply, finally permitting myself to do something other than praying for the hours of daylight. I ordered a bath for myself and commissioned new gowns for myself as befitted my station as my father’s heir. My father didn’t mind; in fact, he encouraged it, for it was to be my inheritance, and I was free to have an allowance if I wished it. I ordered jewels as well, expanding my coffers two-fold, and begun to look every inch a countess-to-be, knowing that the queen would soon notice my circumstances and raise an eyebrow.

And she did indeed, for as spring arrived and I was permitted to be out of mourning, I shone like a bright star in her ladies-in-waiting. With Bella newly returned to court after Temperance’s birth, I finally had someone to speak to again, and I was pleased to have my dearest friend back by my side. She would admire my gown and jewels, and, quite soon, she and I were the most elegantly-dressed ladies in the queen’s court, and the queen could no longer permit herself to remain silent.

“Lady Beaumont, sit with me,” the queen would say more often than not, and it pleased me to have her acknowledge my new title.

I curtsied to her and moved to sit with her, on a lower chair. “Is there anything that you need, Your Majesty?” I would ask.

The queen smiled. “No, but I do have an idea,” she replies. “Have you ever stitched a cushion?” she asked.

“A fair few,” I reply, “for my mother’s chambers at Beaumont Manor. Shall I sew you one, Your Majesty?”

The queen smiled. “Yes, I should like that. But do sew one for yourself, and carry it with you, for when you sit beside me, I would wish for you do to so in comfort, Lady Beaumont.”

I smiled at the queen. “As you command, Your Majesty,” I reply, dipping into her precious sewing basket at her command. “Shall I make yours first or mine, Your Grace? It is my comfort if I am bringing some to you first.”

“Make mine first, if you would,” the queen replied. “You may have access to all the fabric, feathers, thread, needles, and any additional adornments you wish, Lady Beaumont.”

“I thank Your Majesty,” I reply, sifting through her fabrics.

It took me six weeks, but I made Queen Elizabeth a lovely cushion made from green velvet, which had an appealing pattern upon it, in shining gold. Upon the edged, I sewed black velvet, and I even managed to individually sew small white seed pearls around the edges. The queen was absolutely besotted with it, using it for every occasion she could possibly think of, and I was free to make whatever I wanted for my cushion.

I ended up choosing scarlet velvet and sewed a pale red silk around its edges, and finishing it with black seed pearls. I deliberately did not select an embroidered velvet, so as Her Majesty would not think I was competing with her. She praised my work and noted that it was not embroidered, and began seeing me in a different light from then on.

. . . 

It had been a torment to see Edward at court in the weeks after my brother’s, sister-in-law’s, and my niece and nephew’s deaths. Now that I was in the sole heiress position, I knew that the queen would likely be deciding upon the matter of my marriage. I just hoped that it would not be a man old enough to be my father or grandfather. I knew I would throw myself off the highest balcony for I knew I would marry none but Edward.

Edward and I frequently partnered in the evenings to dance, and I would emerge from the encounters flushed and disappointed. It continued to be so as May carried on, and Bella and Geoffrey noticed our mutual dismay. I said nothing of it, however, not wishing to complain to the pair of them, for dear Geoffrey’s family had done so much for me already. It was when June arrived and Bella was preparing for her seventeenth birthday that she devised a grand scheme, and I was unsure of what that was.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” I asked one afternoon, when I was not in the queen’s service and instead sitting with Bella and Temperance, who she had had permission to bring to court.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Bella replied, handing Temperance over to me, who was pleased and immediately raised her arms to be held, snuggling into my neck almost instantly. “It will be a grand dinner for four—Temperance will likely be asleep by then,” she put in, turning around and smiling affectionately at the look of her daughter in my arms. “I should think it would be you and I, plus Geoffrey and Edward.”

I lowered my eyes, distracted by Temperance playing with my necklace and attempting to chew upon it. “Do you think such a thing is wise, Bella?” I ask, gently pulling Temperance from my necklace and distracting her with my index finger, which she promptly shoved into her mouth.

“Of course—why should it not be?” Bella asked, her eyes darting immediately to Temperance and trying not to laugh.

“The queen may suspect something...”

“You are an heiress who shall become a countess and Edward is a duke,” Bella replied in an impatient manner, tapping her book. “What’s wrong with sharing a meal with him? Geoffrey and I shall be there.”

I sigh, leaning down and resting my head gently on Temperance’s, who almost immediately leans into me, grateful for the warmth. “You will be there, too?” I ask then, peeking up at her.

“It’s my birthday—of course I shall,” Bella replied, sitting across from me again and laughing as Temperance turned around and wanted to be held again. “So,” Bella went on, taking Temperance from me, “shall you assist me in planning the menu for this joyous occasion?”

. . .

I wore a new gown of green on the night of Bella’s birthday, and was told to arrive at her suite of rooms that she shared with Geoffrey at approximately seven of the clock that evening. I arrived via the main door, and was quite perplexed to see Edward arriving via the side door, and we mutually looked away from one another. We spotted the note on the elegantly-set table before us and immediately ventured for it; I beat Edward by a mile.

“What does it say, then?” Edward asked.

I opened the letter. “From Bella, for us,” I reply.

_Dearest Elizabeth and Edward,_

_So sorry to have deceived you both! Geoffrey and I are returning to Raincourt Castle for the summer, as we think it is high time our family was expanded. Temperance is with us, never fear, for we’ll not leave her behind._

_The dinner in our chambers is for the two of you. Geoffrey and I can’t stand the notion that you don’t speak anymore. You love one another, truly, as I love my Geoffrey, and we think it right that you attempt at reconciliation. I know it is in your path, my dears, and I know it shall happen when the Lord wills it._

_Your faithful friend and sister,_

_Bella, Viscountess Winthrop_

“I knew she would do this,” Edward said bitterly.

“Is being alone with me so horrible to you that you would rather get drunk in your chambers alone?” I ask.

Edward sighs. “Not at all,” he replies, crossing the room. “Wine?”

“Please,” I reply. I stand motionless, and but for me lowering the letter, await for Edward to bring me a goblet. When he does, I accept it and sip it slowly. “If Bella and Geoffrey are gone, there is no one to eat this meal but us.”

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he says after a moment.

I approach the table then, and Edward pulls out a chair for me; I go to sit, and he pushes it in himself before venturing to the other side of the small table. “I assisted Bella in selecting the menu,” I say quietly, desperate to make some sort of conversation, knowing that the pair of us shouldn’t let Bella down, especially on her birthday, though she was not here to see it.

“Did you?” he asks, taking some of the chicken and tasting it. “Delicious—it seems as if Geoffrey has some connections in the kitchen.”

I nod. “Yes, politeness will get you far.”

Edward and I eat in silence for the next several minutes, occasionally speaking about court life and the like. He mentions his duties as the Duke of Chadwick, and about how his mother has gone to live with his sister, Frances. I speak of being the heiress of my father, and how now he doesn’t keep as tight a grip on the purse strings, as I must be outfitted appropriately.

Edward grips his goblet at the end of the meal, staring at the burgundy depths of the wine before raising his eyes to mine. “This is difficult, Elizabeth, truly, and I don’t believe it shall get easier.”

I lower my eyes, forcing myself not to cry. “For me, too,” I reply, feeling sick with unease. “I know that you didn’t reply to my last letter, and I understand if you don’t wish to wait...”

“I don’t wish to wait because you should be mine already,” Edward replies. “I can’t think why the queen would refuse—”

“I can,” I reply without a moment’s hesitation. “She’s refused because this is a love match, and she hates those. When her cousin, Katherine Grey, wished to marry Edward Seymour, she had to do so in secret because of the queen’s wrath, and they were separated and the marriage was annulled. Then there was Katherine’s sister, Mary, who too married for love and was separated from her lord husband. Then he died far away from her, and while she has her own life now, who knows if happiness shall ever come to pass for her—”

Edward immediately gets to his feet then as my voice breaks, rushing around the table and pulling me to my feet. He takes me into his arms without a moment in time passing further, and I find myself gasp at the strength in his nature and the intimacy of it all. He leans his handsome head down and kisses me then, and I melt in his embrace. He does not let me go, rather, he continues to kiss me, and I feel utterly safe in his arms for a few moments before he most unexpectedly pulls back and walks to the other side of the room. He has his back to me, almost as if he is ashamed of his behavior, and my heart aches deeply for him.

“Edward?” I whisper, softly, as I cross the room towards him then. I place a hand upon his shoulder and gently turn him towards me then, and see that he is weeping by the window. “Edward...” I throw my arms around him then, kissing his tears away and he grips tightly to me then, kissing me back. “Why did you stop?” I manage to ask between kisses.

“Because I felt I had to, for if I did not force myself to do so, I would not have done so,” he replies.

I feel my breath catch in my throat then, suddenly throwing propriety to the wind as I found that everything about us was right, and the queen was wrong to deny us our love. “Then don’t,” I whispered, clutching to him then and my eyes never leaving his. “If we love one another, it cannot be a sin...”

“Elizabeth, do you realize what you’re saying?” Edward whispers. “The implications behind it—”

“I know what I am saying,” I reply, determination in my voice. “I know what I am doing.”

“You don’t wish for me to stop?” he asks.

Without hesitation, I guide his hands to the back of my dress, where my laces are kept, and give him a small smile. “Never,” I reply.

“Elizabeth, should you take with child—”

“Should I take with child, then the Lord Himself has blessed our coupling and then we are to marry as quickly as possible,” I reply simply.

Edward drops his hands then and takes me by the hand, leaving the rest of the food upon the table then. We go through the side door of Bella and Geoffrey’s chambers, and down the deserted corridors of the palace, making our way to I know not where. He pauses then, mid-way down a corridor, and stares at me then, knowing that he must say something then, before it is too late.

“Shall we go to my chambers or to the chapel?” he asks.

“Edward?” I ask him.

“Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

Immediately, I pull it from inside my bodice, attached to a chain. “I always have it,” I reply.

Edward pulls me to him then, despite the corridors being dangerous. “Elizabeth, I love you,” he says simply, “and if you want to be taken as you are, in my chambers, then so be it. However, I would rather take you as my wife, if it is all the same to you, my darling.”

My heart skips a beat then, and although such a thing is dangerous, I knew we had support from many sides, if not the queen’s. “I wish to be taken as your wife,” I whispered. “I don’t care what happens anymore, Edward, as long as I am yours... But I would have everyone’s approval...” I hesitate for a moment, and then know what I must say. “Take me as I am—as a young woman. I am just Elizabeth and you are just Edward. The titles don’t matter to me, my love, all that matters is you.”

Edward nods then, taking me by the hand and pulling me somewhere else, and I know immediately that it is his chambers. We enter via a servants’ door, and see nobody about; I feel my heart dancing as Edward shoots the bolts of all the doors, and pulls the curtains around the windows so as to ensure that he and I are perfectly alone. All the light in the chamber is the massive fire, and Edward decides to undress me before it, so as the flames manage to show him my body, and I take this opportunity to do the same to him, knowing that I cannot miss this opportunity.

Once our clothes are in pools at our feet, he promptly takes me by the hand and to his great bed. His family crest is carved into the wood, the words _DK _in elegant script for Dukes of Chadwick. He pulls the bed curtains around us then, so as we are shrouded in darkness as he gently places a hand on my hip. For some reason, I find myself nervous, and yet I know what to do, and what he wants, and find that our desires are the same. I lean forward then, and allow him to embrace me, holding me close and warming me up.

“It shall hurt?” I whisper.

“So I’ve heard,” he replies.

I blinked, shocked. “You’ve not slept with other virgins then, I take it?” I ask, not wanting to be perceived as impertinent.

“I’ve not slept with anyone,” Edward replies steadily. “I’ve not lied to you in the past, Elizabeth—other than not informing you of my love, or my father’s death, which I later informed you of.” He cups my cheek in the semi-darkness then, and stares into my eyes. “I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, my darling. If you want to cease this, then say so. Is that understood?” he asks, his voice firm.

“Yes, Edward,” I reply.

Edward gently pushes me down into the bolsters, leaning down to kiss me. He allows me to move so as I am comfortable, and gently eases into me then. What he doesn’t account for is my hunger, need, and desire for him, so when I inexplicably find myself drawing him closer, he lets out a small chuckle, yet allows himself to comply.

Our grunts and groans co-mingle shortly thereafter, and we cannot get enough of one another. I find that it is the most joyous thing in the world, having him within me, and I never want him to be parted from me again. Suddenly, a great wave of pleasure overtakes the pair of us and we have to place our hands in each other’s mouths to keep from awaking the whole palace. Collapsing first on top of me and then next to me, Edward pulls me to him, stroking my hair.

“And, by the grace of God, a child or an acceptance shall follow,” I whisper to him, and manage to find his lips in the dark before I kiss him.

. . . 

The following morning at dawn, before Edward is awake, I slip from his bed and pull on my dress from the evening before. By some miracle, I am able to do the laces on my gown myself before I slip from his bedchamber. Hurrying along the corridor before I can be seen, I manage to get to chapel and kneel before the alter, begging for forgiveness at what I had done. When the clock chimes six, I force myself away from the chapel and make my way to my chambers, where I order a bath for myself and request a white gown for the morning and afternoon ahead.

I find I am shaking from what I have done, and don’t know how I can fully manage to beg for forgiveness from the Lord, from my father, and, most of all, from the queen herself. I push the thought from my mind as I step into the bath when it is delivered to my chambers, and find that the water does not even attempt to warm me. I have the maids pin up my hair as I settle into the bathwater, and am relieved when they do not question my whereabouts the evening before, although I know someone at court must know.

After making sure I am clean, I get out of the bath and the maids wrap me in a square of linen, which I cling to, ashamed of myself. The maids manage to ease it from me, offering up my white gown, which I take immediately, and have them lace me into it instantly thereafter. I find I must brush out my hair long and down my back, for although Edward is the only one who knows to the contrary, to the outside world, I must appear untouched. I left my chambers at the usual time, after the queen has called for me, and make my way directly to her presence chamber.

I step inside with many other ladies, curtsying along with them, and hear the customary snap of the queen’s fingers for me to come and sit by her side. My cushion gripped in my fingers, I move to do her bidding, watching the wave of her hand as her other ladies’ scatter to their places at her feet. I set my cushion down upon the chair I’ve been given, spreading my skirts and taking up my embroidery, in the queen’s sewing basket from where I had placed it yesterday afternoon.

“Are you unwell this morning, Lady Beaumont?” the queen asked, a fair amount of concern in her voice. “You know how I feel about ladies not tending properly to their health.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty—I did not sleep well,” I reply, doing my best to thread my needle.

“Now that your dear friend, Viscountess Winthrop, has returned to Raincourt Castle, I suppose you did not,” the queen replies. “Does she seem perfectly happy in her marriage to Viscount Geoffrey, Lady Beaumont?”

I nod. “Perfectly so, Your Majesty,” I reply, raising my eyes to hers. “Never have I seen a happier match.”

“Perhaps a match could be arranged for you, Lady Beaumont.”

“Whatever you wish, Your Majesty,” I reply, turning back to her and smiling broadly. “I will happily bend however you see fit.”

“Lord Charles Radclyffe still speaks highly of you,” she puts in.

“I’ve not spoken to him since he returned from Portugal,” I said softly. “I do hope his journey wasn’t too tiring, Your Majesty.”

“Mayhap something shall happen,” the queen says, leaning down and picking up her bible. “I wonder what it shall be.”

When the afternoon arrives, the queen finally excuses me from her chambers and I am free to return to my rooms until dinner. When I arrive, I am aghast when I see Edward standing there, a bright smile upon his face. Immediately shutting the door behind me, I feel my face paling at the implications of his being alone in my rooms.

“Were you seen?” I demand. “Were you followed?”

“No,” Edward replies, shocked at my demeanor. “I was very careful, and bribed your maid to let me in. She won’t talk—she’s quite loyal.”

I pursed my lips, still fearful and unsure, and cross the room towards him. “I want to impress upon you my frame of mine last evening.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“The wine clouded my thoughts,” I say, knowing that it has to be this way. “I could not think clearly, Edward, which is why my decision of acting so rash came so easily to me. It would not have happened, otherwise—”

“Do you regret it?” he demanded then, fear in his voice.

“I don’t regret it,” I say immediately, for of course I did not. “My only regret is that the queen believes I should still marry Lord Charles—she’ll never let us be together, Edward!”

“But do you want to be together, Elizabeth? Truly?” he asks, and suddenly I am in his arms again, as I was last night, and I am weeping instead of him. “Do you not wish to be my duchess?”

“Of course I wish it,” I say quietly. “I wish it more than anything in all the world, but I will not be your mistress, Edward. I must only come to you, from this day forth, as your wife.”

“Then be my wife,” Edward begs. “We are engaged already—”

“The queen won’t recognize it,” I predict. “She will never let me be your wife, no matter how much we may wish it.”

“And Lord Charles?” he asks.

“I’ll refuse, like that last time,” I say quietly. “I’ll never submit, and if the queen forces it, I will truly throw myself off a balcony and into the Thames. I will only be your wife, Edward—I swear it.”

“What can we do, then?” Edward whispers.

I smile up at him through my tears. “We wait,” I reply.

. . . 

The waiting, thankfully, did not last much longer, although Edward did have to return to Chadwick Hall as the summer wore on. With Bella and Geoffrey at Raincourt Castle—and with Bella informing me of her third pregnancy—I knew I would not see any of them again for quite some time. I focused on my duty to the queen as the month of June concluded, and July began, my seventeenth birthday publicly on the horizon. I feared that the question of a betrothal of myself and Lord Charles would be brought up again, and I prayed that it would not be, for fear that the queen would insist upon it.

I was a grand lady now, so my father and the queen spared no expense for this birthday of mine. As I was still unmarried, I was valued at such a prize within the kingdom that every man at court—whether young or old—sought my hand for a dance on the evening of my birth, at the end of July. I had gowns and new jewels and a beagle puppy, who I called Reine. Reine was to stay in my chambers during the banquet and dancing, and when I returned, she was fast asleep upon my bed.

During the dancing, I willingly partnered with a great many men, yet felt no connection with any of them. However, just as he had the year before, Edward turned up at court and danced with me again, and I was suddenly light upon my feet again, and happy at last. When the dancing began to subside, the queen called me to her side again and, although reluctant to leave Edward, I willingly did so, curtsying to her and climbing the dais.

“Is Reine adjusting well?” the queen asked.

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty,” I replied. “Thank you for the gift of such a darling companion.”

“Dogs are great fun to have, but I thought you would have preferred a gentler breed—this way, she will not need to hunt with us.”

I curtsied to the queen. “I thank Your Majesty,” I said again.

She turned to survey the dancers again, smiling to herself. “When you turned sixteen, you informed me that it looked like a grand entertainment.”

I turned to watch them, twirling and spinning about. “Yes, I suppose I did, Your Majesty,” I reply.

“I spotted your dance with Lord Charles—it was very good.”

“He is a generous partner, Your Majesty.”

“However, I see that there is no light in your eyes when he is spoken of—by anyone,” the queen said softly. “I see only a light in your eyes—a rare light, that indicates love—when the Duke of Chadwick is spoken of.”

I lower my eyes. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I meant no offense—”

“I know you did not,” the queen says, cutting across me, not unkindly. “It seems as though things must change.”

“Your Majesty?” I ask, raising my eyes to hers.

Queen Elizabeth gives me a small smile. “Do you bear a love for the duke, Lady Beaumont?” she asks, candidly.

Immediately, I decide I should be honest. “I do, Your Majesty.”

“Tell me of it.”

“I love him,” I say without hesitation. “I am in love with Lord Edward, Duke of Chadwick. I find it is becoming more and more difficult to live without him, and would do anything to be his wife...”

The queen nods. “I see.” She hesitates for a moment before she permits herself to speak again. “And does the duke bear a love for you?”

“Yes,” I say quickly. “He loves me. We are in love.”

The queen nods a second time. “I see,” she says again.

“Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Your Majesty...”

“There is nothing to forgive—you spoke honestly, and that is something I value in my ladies,” she tells me patiently. “Now, for your final gift on the day of your birth, you are to be married, Lady Beaumont.”

“Married?” I whisper.

The queen nods. “In October, I should think—that way, we can put on a most wonderful celebration for when you become Duchess of Chadwick.”

“Duchess of...?” Immediately, I fall to my knees and take up the queen’s hand and kiss her ring. “Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you!”

The queen laughs. “Go and celebrate with your betrothed,” she orders.

Immediately, I descend from the dais, feeling whole again as I look for Edward in the crowd. Immediately I spot him, speaking with Lord Charles and his other comrades, and approach them all. I curtsy then, and every gentleman immediately turns towards me, for not only was it my birthday, but I was still an unmarried heiress. “My lord duke,” I say, making direct eye contact with Edward and shattering the rest of their hopes. “Might I borrow you for a walk in the gardens?”

Edward looks pleased at this and offers me his arms. “But of course, Lady Beaumont,” he replies.

We walk outside then into the warm evening; the sun had not set yet, as it was barely seven of the clock. Hampton Court Palace was beautiful in the summer, as the entire garden was in bloom. Roses dotted every surface, it seemed, for the meant everything to the reigning monarch. They smelled sweet, and I turned to Edward then, hoping he would break the silence for, although comfortable, so much needed to be said.

“I spoke to the queen,” I said, unable to keep silent any longer.

“Have you?” Edward asks, curious.

I nod. “Yes—I’ve informed her of my love for you, and yours for me, and she seemed receptive.”

“Receptive?” Edward asks. “Does this mean...?”

“She says we are engaged,” I say in a rush then, as Edward promptly lifts me into his arms and swings me around.

“When is the wedding to be?” he asks.

“October!” I shout, laughing as hard as I could, and having Edward join me was remarkable. “The queen says we must prepare for such a ceremony—”

“No,” Edward says firmly, lowering me down onto the ground. “I care not for ceremony, Elizabeth! It must be at once!”

“At once?” I cry out. “Edward—”

“Do you care for ceremony?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

“Do you wish to be my wife?”

I nod. “Of course I do, Edward, above all things—”

“Then marry me next week,” he begs. “I shall pay a fine if the queen demands it, but I care not for ceremony, and neither do you. We can write to Bella and to Geoffrey to be the witnesses. We shall move to Westminster Palace the following week, and we shall marry in the dead of night in the abbey, just as Bella and Geoffrey did—”

“You’re quite sure?” I whisper, clutching at him then. Although I was now seventeen years of age, Edward was nearly twenty and certainly knew what he was doing. “Quite sure now?”

“Quite sure,” Edward replies. “Marry me.”

“Yes!” I cry out breathlessly, throwing my arms around him and kissing him almost immediately.

. . .

Bella and Geoffrey arrive at Westminster Palace three days after the court does, in the middle of the first week of August. Bella comes to my chambers that same evening to assist me in preparing myself for the evening ahead. She quickly embraces me as she crosses my threshold, apparently more than a little pleased to have returned to court. She had to use a little for the journey, due to not wishing to bring potential risk to her second long-term pregnancy. She would have the child the following January, and Geoffrey was beside himself with joy, she said, at his growing family.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked, after I’d shown her the gown I was to wear when I became the Duchess of Chadwick. “Not nervous?”

I lower my eyes then, sighing. “You must not tell a soul...”

“What?” Bella asks, searching my face.

“We were to be married in October, but Edward insisted it be now,” I reply, biting my lower lip.

“He could not wait?” she guesses.

“He said it was because he did not want ceremony, and while I would not have minded it, I had to accept the terms,” I reply, raising my eyes to hers. “I had to, Bella, or else I would have been ruined...”

Bella’s eyes widened then, before lowering themselves to my belly, not yet swollen, but in the coming weeks, it would be. “On the night of my birthday, you and Edward...?” she asked, unable to get the words out.

I nodded. “Yes. We had some of the wine and could not stop ourselves from succumbing to our desires...”

Bella nods, pulling me into her arms in a hasty manner. “It’s all right—it is only one month, and so often babies come early, especially the first ones. You need not worry about a thing, Eliza, truly.”

I sigh then, rolling my shoulders and pulling back from her. “I suppose I am ready now,” I say softly to her. “I am ready to become the Duchess of Chadwick—I think I shall make for a good duchess.”

“You shall, of course you shall,” Bella assures me, removing my gown from dinner and picking up my white one. She laces me into it, and, thankfully, no one will be able to tell. “You look beautiful,” she tells me.

I smile at her. “It is a lie—to wear this gown,” I say softly. “Everyone will believe I am coming to Edward a virgin, but I am with child already—”

Bella shushes me then. “You need not speak of it. Wait a month and then tell him, but not tonight, Eliza—not tonight.”

I nod quickly. “Of course, of course—not tonight.”

We wrap ourselves in our long summer cloaks and steal out of my chambers like thieves in the night, crossing to the servants’ quarters and out into the darkness. We dashed past the stables, then around the bed and into the street before we dashed down another street and towards the abbey. With our running, it took no less than a minute to get there and as we stepped inside, I felt relief at seeing Edward there. We embraced quickly, sharing a brief kiss before Geoffrey went to go and find the archbishop.

I was quite surprised to see that our archbishop in question that evening was none other than Edmund Grindal, the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. He smiled kindly at the pair of us and beckoned us forward, and we walked down the aisle of the abbey, Bella just behind us. He smiled broadly as we approached him, and Edward promptly handed over a sack of gold coins.

“Your names?” the archbishop asked.

“Edward, Duke of Chadwick,” Edward informed him.

“Elizabeth, Lady Beaumont,” I say quietly.

“Edward, son of Edward and Jane Chadwick, Duke and Duchess of Chadwick,” the archbishop said softly. “Elizabeth, daughter of Philip and Anne, Earl and Countess of Beaumont,” he continued. “Very well. Have either of you permission from the queen?”

Edward produced a document when had the queen’s royal seal upon it, and I was shocked that he had such a thing. “We do,” Edward said, waiting for the archbishop to look it over.

“Wonderful,” he said quietly. “Shall we begin?” he asked.

Edward turned to me. “Yes,” he replied.

I looked over at him. “Yes,” I said.

The archbishop opened his book then, skipping the pleasantries, for he must have known we wished to not prolong the ceremony. “Edward, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together in God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep the only to her, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Edward replied.

“Elizabeth, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together in God’s holy ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep the only unto him so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” I say, meeting Edward’s eyes.

The elderly man smiles upon us then, crossing over the holy book as he gazes at one of us, and then the other. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Archbishop Grindal says. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Edward, Bella, Geoffrey, and I say as one.

We steal out from Westminster Abbey that evening, after the archbishop has blessed us both and sent us on our way. As we ran through the night, I felt my heart skipping a beat. Not only was I married to the man I loved, but I was now a duchess. I was no longer the unmarried heiress Lady Beaumont; I was now Lady Elizabeth, Duchess of Chadwick. I was now to be addressed as Elizabeth Chadwick; Beaumont was no longer my name, and I now belonged to Edward, as he did to me.


	5. Chadwick Hall

Edward, thankfully, did not have to pay a fine to the queen, and we were instead granted permission to leave court immediately and to go to Chadwick Hall, where Edward insisted that I establish my household. My mother and father would be joining us there in the coming weeks, as Edward stipulated that as Chadwick Hall’s new mistress, I could entertain as much as I liked. Bella and Geoffrey too would be joining us, and I found that, at seventeen, I could not ask for anything else. I’d truly managed to achieve my hopes and desires, and Edward could not make things better if he tried.

The servants at Chadwick Hall were very welcoming, and I was told to inform the young ladies in the villages surrounding the manor that I was looking for a few personal maids. Once the word was out, several maidens came forward, and I decided upon three of them—Cecily Barton, Ruth Clarke, and Alix Holme—to become my ladies maids. They were hard-working and kind, each possessing a different personality. It wasn’t long in my service that Cecily fell in love with our master of horse, Ruth our cook, and Alix our chamberlain, so we ended up setting a triple wedding date for December.

However, back in the middle of August, after I had selected my ladies maids, I found myself sitting in the duchess’ chambers of Chadwick Hall, still shocked that all of this was now mine. I was sitting at my vanity table, having already excused Cecily, Ruth, and Alix for the evening, and was brushing my long, raven hair when Edward arrived in my rooms. Our eyes met in the mirror and he smiled at me, and I felt my cheeks heat at his eyes on mine. Lowering the golden brush, I sighed; Bella had told me to wait but I could not do so any longer, now that I was sure.

“Feeling well?” Edward asked, stepping closer to me and placing his hands upon my shoulders. “You hardly ate at dinner. In future, if Bruce makes something you don’t like, you must inform me or him at once. Bruce is such a kind man, Elizabeth, and just seeks to do a good job—”

I shake my head then, inadvertently cutting him off. “Dinner was wonderful, Edward, truly,” I reply, reaching up and gripping onto his hands.

“Then why did you not eat?” he asks.

I lower my eyes. “Nerves, I suppose...”

“What could you be nervous of?” he asks, gently pulling me to my feet and turning me towards him. “What is it?”

I sighed. “Bella told me to wait until next month, but I cannot do so, Edward—I cannot deceive you any long, I simply cannot...”

“Elizabeth?” he asked, tilting my chin up. “What is it?”

My eyes met his then. “I’m with child,” I reply. “I’ve been with child since Bella’s birthday. I didn’t want to tell you—I couldn’t tell you—for I believed you would think me entrapping you—”

Edward promptly leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. “Not only am I delighted at the prospect, Elizabeth, but I am also overjoyed that the Lord Himself has smiled on our union!” he cries out, pulling me to him and kissing me again. “We are to have a child,” he whispers.

“What if it isn’t a son?” I whisper.

Edward smiles. “Geoffrey was simply enchanted with Temperance, as I shall be if this child is a daughter,” he replies, getting to his knees and kissing my belly then, stroking it. “The early days yet, my love, but we shall celebrate this joy in truth! We shall have your mother and father, my mother, Frances, Thomasine, Bella, Geoffrey, and Temperance here at Chadwick Hall!”

“Edward!” I cry out, shocked and delighted.

“You shall tell Bruce exactly what is to be served, and you shall have a new gown and jewels for the occasion!” he trumpets out. “And a new hood and a pair of slippers and new silk stockings! Anything and everything you may wish for, my darling, is yours.”

“Might I have a horse?” I whisper, wondering just how much Edward would let me get away with before pulling the purse strings shut. “I’ve never had one of my very own before, and I’d like one very much.”

Edward smiles. “Of course, although I would appreciate it if you limited your riding as your pregnancy advances,” he rules. “I want nothing happening to you or to our child.”

I nod. “Of course, my love,” I reply, standing on my toes. “And, perhaps, a new riding costume?”

“The very best for you, my love,” Edward proclaims. “And, now that the days will become shorter, you shall have furred cloaks,” he declares. “You shall be the envy of Blackpool, my love, and not even the queen can touch you now that you are my wife.”

“Now that I am your wife,” I reply, satisfied with how it sounds.

. . . 

Mama, Papa, Bella, Geoffrey, Edward’s mother Jane, Frances, and Thomasine arrived the following week at Chadwick Hall. We were celebrating our wedding and my becoming Duchess of Chadwick, although we were reluctant to announce my pregnancy. Although I was indeed with child according to the physician in our household, it was not something we should announce so quickly, due to the fact that we’d conceived before wedlock. However, all of our guests were due to stay a month or so, giving us plenty of time to make the announcement, should we feel the need to do so.

Jane, Frances, and Thomasine arrived first, and Edward and I stood outside the manor to wait for them. I felt quite apprehensive at doing so, wondering if Jane would insist upon me calling her “Dowager Duchess” or “Mother”. I thought it best to await her judgement, and I, selfishly, hoped she would love me for the love I bore her son alone, as well as my friendship with Bella. It was a cool day in the second week of August as their carriage arrived, and I immediately felt myself grip Edward’s hand in mine as the carriage circled round the bend of the courtyard before coming to a complete stop at the base of the stone steps, which Edward and I descended and approached the carriage itself.

I was about to kneel completely when the door opened and the three women stepped out, but Edward stopped me from doing so, almost as if to remind me that it was our home and that he and I were the top-ranking members of this brought-together company. I remained rooted to the spot and dipped my head in respect, and Edward squeezed my hand, letting me know that such a thing was considered appropriate. I watched as Jane, Frances, and Thomasine stepped forward then, and although my next inkling was to attempt a curtsy a second time, I didn’t want to risk Edward’s displeasure.

“Mother, Frances, Thomasine—welcome to Chadwick Hall,” Edward said warmly to the three of them, squeezing my hand once again before stepping forward and kissing first his mother, and then his two elder sisters. “Elizabeth and I formally bid you welcome,” he says, turning back towards me and taking me by the hand, gently pulling me forward. “Mother, Frances, Thomasine, this is my wife, Elizabeth, Duchess of Chadwick.”

“And future Countess of Beaumont,” Frances muttered under her breath in a rather smug manner, her grass green gown ill-suited to her particular tinge of copper hair.

“More like the queen allowed the marriage after her three brothers, niece, and nephew died,” Thomasine said with a smirk, her dark eyes flashing to her sister, causing her blonde hair to swing about as she met Frances’s ill-suited green eyes.

“Girls!” Jane cried out, as if astonished, glaring at her daughters for a moment before turning back to me. “My dear, it is an honor to finally meet you,” she says then, and steps forward; as Edward releases me, Jane promptly takes me by the hands and kisses me on both cheeks. “You are far prettier than I ever imagined, but it must come with your health. Are you quite well, my dear? You must know that Anne Boleyn craved apples, while Jane Seymour craved quails eggs...”

I feel myself blanch white then before turning to Edward, who raises his hands and shakes his head. “My health, my lady?” I asked, watching from the corner of my eye as Frances and Thomasine look shocked at what their own mother is now insinuating.

“Call me ‘Mother’, please, my love,” Jane says kindly, putting an arm around me and leading me back into Chadwick Hall. “Bella often wrote from court about your love for Edward, and I’ll never forgive the queen for making you wait over a year to wed.”

“Edward was most anxious for it to happen,” I said softly. “The queen originally set the date for October, but Edward insisted it be the week after my seventeenth birthday, to ensure that Bella and Geoffrey could be there.”

“Bella wrote of the wedding as well—a quiet affair, but all you and my son could ever have wanted,” Jane puts in. “I like that you kept such an affair simple, as you will have to get many gifts the longer you are married and our esteemed Duchess of Chadwick.”

“I love Edward,” I said softly, unable to keep the defensiveness from my tone as I said this. “His title had nothing to do with it; of course, it was convenient due to our closeness in rank, but the queen refused to allow us to wed until it was sure that I was my father’s only heir.”

Jane nods, acknowledging that. “No, of course the queen would prove to be stubborn on the matter of a love match—just like her father,” she tells me quietly, as if it is a great secret.

“What?” I demand, shocked that such a thing was an inherited trait. “Surely not, for her father was a great lover of women, and some outside the marriage bed,” I say, shaking my head with disdain.

Jane smothers her smile then and sighs. “When I fell in love with my own husband Edward when I was young, King Henry couldn’t imagine someone like me—a daughter of a wealthy lord—marrying so far above her station,” she explained as we continued towards the gallery. “That was back when Kathryn Howard was queen, and she was who persuaded the match to go through,” Jane explains in a hushed tone.

“Kathryn Howard?” I asked, remembering hearing the tale of the flaxen-haired teenager, niece of the Duke of Norfolk and cousin to Anne Boleyn, who had wooed the fifty-year-old King of England. “Surely, she had plenty of influence in such matters, although I’m quite sure being the king’s Rose Without a Thorn could not have been an easy task for her... There were rumors of the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk’s household, and a musician—Henry Manox—and the gentleman, Francis Dereham.”

“The rumors were true,” my mother-in-law affirms. “But yes, in the early days of marriage, Kathryn wielded much influence over the besotted king, who gave her all the gowns and jewels she wanted, including the key to every treasure room in the palace,” Jane tells me. “But poor Kathryn Howard would meet her end on the block when she had an affair with her cousin, Thomas Culpeper, but refused to admit wrong doing.”

“Refused?” I demand, shocked.

“Admitted to the affair on the scaffold, poor thing,” Jane whispers as if to love another while married to the king was a sin.

I shake my head. “After all the love the king had given her, and he too refused forgiveness?”

“He believed that his dear wife had done the ultimate wrong-doing, and so he refused to see her again.”

“Refused to see her?” I cry out, wondering if Edward would ever say such a thing to me. “Surely not!”

“’Tis true,” Jane tells me. “When eighteen-year-old Kathryn realized that she was under arrest by his order, she fled from her chambers, running as quickly as possible down the corridor, and banged on the king’s chamber doors.”

“No!” I whispered.

“Truly,” Jane says softly. “Apparently, Queen Elizabeth—who was only Lady Elizabeth then—was at court and was with the Earl of Leicester, much before they were lovers, and told him then that she would never marry.”

“Who told you this?” I whisper.

“Dudley’s wife, Lettice Knollys,” Jane replies offhandedly. “I was quite close with her mother, Lady Catherine Knollys, God rest her. Of course, the rumors of Lady Catherine being the illegitimate daughter of King Henry the Eighth always drifted throughout court...”

“Catherine Carey, daughter of Mary Boleyn?” I ask, shaking my head. “But Mary was wedded to Sir William Carey...”

“Yes, but Lady Mary was mistress to King Henry for a period of years before the king wed Anne Boleyn,” Jane tells me patiently. “Catherine’s younger brother, Henry, who was created Baron Hunsdon, was also rumored to be a product of the affair between king and married lady...”

“But Kathryn Howard,” I say, desperate to get back to the topic at hand, “she was not given a pardon?”

“Because she would not admit wrong-doing, yes. And there were rumors that she was pregnant with Culpeper’s child as well...”

“A child?” I whisper, shaking my head and fingering the cross at my throat as I shake my head. “God help them...”

“She claimed she would have rather died the wife of Culpeper than as Queen of England. Shame,” she puts in, squeezing my arm in comfort. “Unfortunately, Edward and I were separated for a period of five years, until the king died, and his son Edward became king and permitted the match to take place.”

“The king separated you?” I cry out. “How cruel!”

“Yes, and even after he wed his sixth wife, Katherine Parr,” Jane says softly, her lilting voice saddened. “Katherine was far too busy with the establishment of the reformed religion and of getting the king to restore Mary and Elizabeth into the succession that everything else didn’t seem to matter. Even when she was made regent while King Henry was in France did she spend long hours closeted away with Thomas Cranmer, translating the bible...”

I reach out then and grip Jane’s hand. “But young King Edward permitted your marriage to your lord husband?”

“After many years, yes. My Edward supervised the young king’s household with the king’s own uncle, Edward Seymour, the former and disgraced Lord Protector,” Jane says. “My husband was so close to the Lord Protector and to the young king that they agreed upon the marriage within the fortnight of young Edward becoming King of England. And so my husband and I were married and named our only son out of our four surviving children after the pair of wonderful men who permitted the match in the first place.”

“And your other children?” I ask. “Who were they named for?”

“Frances was named for Frances Brandon, cousin to Queen Elizabeth due to Frances’s mother being Queen Mary of France, youngest sister of King Henry the Eighth,” Jane says rather affectionately. “Thomasine was named for Thomasine Percival, who founded a great school. And Isabelle was named for Isabella of Castile, husband of Ferdinand of Aragon, and mother to Catherine of Aragon, first wife of King Henry the Eighth. We named her Isabelle as opposed to Isabella for we found it sounded more English.”

I place my hand over my belly when I am sure Jane is not looking. “Was your Edward displeased?” I ask quietly. “Do you believe he would have liked to have had more sons?”

Jane smiled ever so slightly, staring out of the window fondly. “I believe he did truly love his daughters—Edward will have told you that Isabelle was his very favorite. But the children we lost...he would carry with him...”

I turned to face her fully then, shocked at the words. “Edward never mentioned that children were lost,” I whisper.

“Babies—a few of them,” Jane corrects me gently. “Frances, Thomasine, Edward, and Isabelle were the only children to survive infancy.”

“A few babies?” I ask, barely getting the words out.

“Our sons, Henry, William, and Edward—who was born between Frances and Thomasine,” Jane says quietly. “And then there were our daughters, Anne, Catherine, Jane, Elizabeth, and Margaret, who unfortunately did not survive over two years—any of them, really.”

I find my hand has not left my belly, and Jane catches me with it there, so I quickly tear my fingers away from it. “I am sorry for it...”

“You need not hide it from me, Elizabeth,” she says gently. “I knew from the moment I left the carriage. I also knew that it was far too early to even know such a thing had taken place,” Jane informs me knowingly, and I immediately feel my face flush before turning away from her. “No need to fret,” she tells me and takes me by the hand. “My Edward and I had a few moments to ourselves in the five years that we were not permitted to marry. I spent plenty of hours on my knees, begging for a child not to come, and my prayers were heeded. I know this child must have been conceived before—”

“No, please,” I say, turning back to Jane and feeling desperation wash over me as I contemplated falling to my knees. “Edward must not know that I said or implied anything,” I tell her. “It is a sin and I have prayed on it, hoping for forgiveness...”

“It was a baby made in love, and it is the fruit of that love,” Jane tells me with a smile. “Nothing could be purer, my dear. And first babies frequently come early, so you have naught to worry about.”

“I do not?” I whisper.

Jane nods. “Absolutely nothing,” she affirms, taking me by the arm again and continuing onwards, past the gallery. “When Edward wrote and invited us here, he told us that in addition to Isabelle, Geoffrey, and Temperance, that we would have the pleasure of the company of your lord father and lady mother, the Earl and Countess of Beaumont.”

“Yes, they should arrive by the end of the week.”

“Splendid,” Jane said with a smile. “I’ve not seen either of them since my years of service at court. I quite like seeing old friends, especially under these circumstances,” she says with a smile, taking a quick look at my belly as we continue on through the house.

. . .

“Well my lady mother has certainly taken a shine to you,” Edward reports when he comes to bed that evening. “She finds you intelligent as well as pretty,” he says as he kisses my forehead. “And you initially believed that she would emote displeasure at the match...”

I lower my eyes. “She’s certainly an intelligent sort,” I reply, running my hands along my belly as I contemplate what to say next. “Although I do believe that, at times, more can be left to the imagination. Did you know about Kathryn Howard’s refusal to repent about her affair with Culpeper?”

Edward sighs, gently pulling me into his arms. “Well, I shall be sure to speak to her on that matter,” he tells me gently. “You should not be upset, my darling, now that you are carrying our heir.”

“What if it is a daughter?” I ask again for the second time in a fortnight. “You are quite sure you’ll not be displeased?”

My husband shakes his head. “Of course not, my love. For it will surely be a boy next time.”

I purse my lips. “You know one thing that I’ve never understood?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Edward says. “What?”

“The fact that women are not seen as suitable heirs unless all the boys and men have been disposed of in some way,” I say quietly, “or if there are no boys or men readily available to do the job.”

“How do you mean?”

I turn and look at Edward, wanting to fully grasp his understanding of my meaning. “Well, suppose we had a daughter first and a boy second.”

Edward nodded. “As my son—no matter if he is our first or our middle or our last child—he shall inherit everything.”

“But why?” I press. “I am to be a countess in my own right! Why can our eldest daughter be jointly Duchess of Chadwick and Countess of Beaumont?” I want to know, seriously misunderstanding.

“Because it is what society dictates,” Edward replies. “Men cannot be seen as submissive to women, Elizabeth. Otherwise, we would be seen as the weaker sex and we cannot demonstrate that to our Lord God,” he says, almost as if it has been taught to him. “We are not the weaker of the two, Elizabeth—we cannot be.”

I sigh, sitting up and away from him. “Yes, but if you are so strong, why can you not carry the child for me?”

Edward laughed. “That would look rather silly, wouldn’t it? A man, waddling about, as large as a manor house?”

Immediately, I pick up a bolster and hit him squarely with it, much to my husband’s delight. “That’s not funny!” I shout.

Edward laughs uproariously then, closing the distance between us and grabbing me then, and I let out a shriek of mock-protest as he throws me back down onto the bed and looks me over. “Ah, my little wife...”

I bite my lip. “Shall you punish me then, husband?”

Edward’s eyes take on that of a delighted man. “I would, but I am afraid that such a thing would be most frowned upon—”

I wretch my arms free from his grip then and manage to get them upwards, and around his neck. Pulling him down to me, I find that the taste of his lips on mine is sweeter than that of a marchpane house on Christmas. “We are not at court now, husband, and we certainly don’t have to obey the rules of Her Majesty if we are not under her thumb...”

“We are in her realm,” he whispers against my lips, “her kingdom...”

“But we are in our home,” I say back to him, our lips quickly becoming entwined once more, “our kingdom...”

Edward smiles down upon me. “And as soon as this child is born, we may always do as we like,” he tells me.

“Always?” I ask him. “Edward, surely we must make time for this baby as well as the others that will likely follow...”

“And I am prepared for that,” my husband informs me patiently, kissing me again, his arms tightly wrapped around me.

“I am prepared for anything with you,” I reply.

. . . 

The rest of the autumn completes, and then winter follows suit, with Christmas being celebrated in the grandeur of Chadwick Hall, with my mother and father, Jane, Bella, Geoffrey, Temperance, and Baby Geoffrey, born just a month before, in November. I could see how pleased Geoffrey was to have a son, although I did notice how Edward would watch Bella with her little boy and wonder if we too would be blessed with one. I spent more and more time on my knees to make sure of it, but of course, I could not be sure.

The New Year came and went, and with it, the anniversary of the deaths of my youngest of my three elder brothers, Thomas, along with his wife Honor, and their two children, Anne and Roger. It was a bitter time, with my mother and father returning to Beaumont Manor to their seclusion, and yet I found time to write to them as spring approached. In February, all seemed well, until March came onto the horizon.

I was due to have the baby at any time now, and I eagerly anticipated the birth of my first child. However, as I was roaming the garden in the middle of the third week of March, I was quite shocked to see my messenger from Beaufort Manor came forth. I was quite alone at home, as Edward had been summoned to London, but Jane was a days’ ride away from where she lived with her daughter Frances. Taking the letter, I handed the messenger a few gold coins and sent him on his way to the kitchens. Recognizing my father’s seal, I felt a sense of trepidation within me as I broke the seal and held the pages near enough to the sunlight to see them clearly, his normally even strokes smashed in despair.

_My dearest Elizabeth,_

_Sad tidings from Beaufort Manor as I manage to put quill to paper to inform you of this devastating news. I know that Edward will not think too kindly of me for informing you of this so near your time, but I couldn’t not inform you of it, my love. It was precisely four days ago that your mother left this world for the next one. I found her in the middle of the hallway leading to chapel; she had slipped in the darkness the night before and had hit her head._

_The physicians have informed me that it was quick as well as painless, and I do hope that that was true indeed. Again, my sweet, I am so sorry to inform you of this whilst you are pregnant with your first child; when Catherine of Aragon was pregnant with Queen Mary, they hid her father’s death from her for months. For Her Majesty Queen Catherine had had numerous failures over the years, and so it was for the good of England that she was not told of it._

_ <strike>While I know the benefits of having an heir, my darling, you are not an heir to the throne of England</strike> _

I stop reading then, trying to understand why my father had crossed out those words, and yet force myself to continue onwards.

_I shall come to Chadwick Hall within the next month to see what I make of my future grandchild. Long may they live, and long may you live, my Elizabeth._

_Your father,_

_Lord Philip, Earl of Beaumont_

“Mother?” I whisper, noticing then that my hands were shaking at the prospect of what this all meant. “Mother...Mama...no...” I whispered as the letter fell from my hands and as a sharp pain came to my abdomen then. I threw my head back and screamed in anguish and pain, tears coursing down my cheeks as I moved to return to the manor, but my maids had already found me and had brought me inside.

I was brought to bed immediately, and laid down upon it, and I found that I seemed to collapse at once, unmoving to their words or demands. I found I was exhausted, and that nothing could ever wake me. However, when a shrill scream cut through my slumbering state, my eyes snapped open then, and I found myself drenched in sweat as I moved to lift myself up, and my mouth came open then to see the village midwife holding out a perfectly-wrapped baby towards me.

I found I could not speak, for I was soon weeping again as I reached out for the little thing, with a red face and eyes screwed up tight, nearly as tightly as the balls of its fists. “What is—?” I manage to get out.

“You’ve borne a daughter, my lady duchess,” the midwife said.

I nodded, turning back to my child and kissing her forehead. “Shush now, my love,” I whisper, turning to my maid, Ruth. “Have the messengers sent to London, to Colchester, to Kent, and to Dorsey House in Salisbury,” I say, naming where Frances lived with her husband, children, and Jane. “Do not inform them of the child’s sex, merely that I am doing well, as is she,” I say, and know that Ruth will understand. As the midwife and Ruth scuttle out of my chamber, I turn to look again at my little girl. “You shall be called Elizabeth for your mother and for the queen; Anne, for your lady grandmother; Isabelle, for your lady aunt and for my dearest friend in all the world; and Jane, for your other lady grandmother,” I say, leaning down and kissing her again, gazing at the dusting of raven hair upon her head, so like my own. “And your papa shall love you more than life itself,” I say, and throw back the bedclothes and managing to walk across the room, before I throw open the curtains and the casement window, the sunset almost as beautiful as my daughter. “My little Bess you shall be,” I whisper to her, holding her close and watching the horizon for her father to come home to us.


End file.
